


Dog Days

by irisbleufic



Series: Come As You Are [6]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Awkward Romance, Botany, Characters Annoying Other Characters Just Because, Demisexuality, Disability, Do not translate without permission or copy to another site/app, Established Relationship, F/F, Gender Dysphoria, Health Issues, Hidden Depths, Humor, Intersex Character, Jerome Valeska Lives, LGBTQ Themes, Laughter, M/M, Mad Science, Meddling, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Mental Health Issues, Neurodiversity, Nonbinary Character, Other, Parallels, Pride Parades, Queer Character, Queer Themes, Recovery, References to Misgendering in Childhood, References to suicidal ideation, Road Trips, Science Experiments, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Summer, Summer Romance, Swimming, Swimming Pools, Therapy, Trans Character, Twins, mlm & wlw solidarity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “Don’t go all shrink on me,” Jerome said, rummaging in the shopping bag. “You’re off duty.”“It’s a valid consideration,” [Ecco] continued philosophically. “Was it your circumstances that made ya snap, or was it unavoidable?”“Did circumstance make my bro snap?” Jerome countered. “I’ve heard you claim otherwise.”“J’s a piece of work in a lot of ways you ain’t,” [Ecco] replied, “but you’re both still a mess.”“What about Five?” Jerome asked, genuinely intrigued. “Did circumstance make him snap?”“Unclear,” [Ecco] said, taking the exit when Jerome pointed at the sign. “He’s like Ivy.”“And what’s Ivy?” Jerome prodded. “Somethin’ as dangerous as J? Is that why you fell so hard?”
Relationships: 514A & Ecco & Jerome Valeska, 514A & Jerome Valeska, 514A/Jerome Valeska, Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Ecco & Ivy Pepper (Gotham), Ecco & Jeremiah Valeska, Ecco & Jeremiah Valeska & Bruce Wayne, Ecco/Ivy Pepper (Gotham), Jeremiah Valeska & Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska & Jerome Valeska & Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Series: Come As You Are [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1313342
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34





	1. Fish Out of Water

Jerome shouldn’t have been surprised about the invitation to Wayne Manor a month after Pride. Mid-July in Gotham was insufferably humid, and he’d known, in an abstract sense, that there was a swimming pool somewhere on the estate.

What was shocking was that Bruce and Jeremiah had decided to actually make use of it.

Fond memories of childhood were relatively scarce for Jerome, but a small handful of them involved swimming in ponds and rivers as the circus traveled around the country. He’d never been as strong a swimmer as Jeremiah, but Jeremiah had taken a dislike to the activity as soon as their mother had begun to force a frilly one-piece suit on him.

So, when Five stared at the invitation for a minute before tossing it in the trash, Jerome had an inkling of where his reaction was coming from. Five didn’t blow up about it until twenty-four hours later, when they were in the penthouse shower.

“I’ve never worn a swimsuit, did they even stop to think about that?” he seethed, shaking as Jerome had gathered him to his chest. “I don’t even know what _kind_ I should wear!”

“Uh, princess?” Jerome soothed, starting to massage shampoo into Five’s drenched scalp. “If you really _do_ wanna go, the answer to that is, whatever kind makes you feel comfortable.”

Five went quiet, sniffling as Jerome scrubbed him. “Maybe just…a sundress and a straw hat?”

“Sure, you don’t have to get in the water if you don’t wanna,” Jerome said encouragingly. “You sit by the pool and look real pretty with Ivy while Harley and I kick Brucie’s ass at Marco Polo.”

Five snorted at that, adorably perplexed. “As in…the 13th-century Venetian merchant-explorer?”

Jerome shrugged, rubbing Five’s back with the wash cloth, trying to remember all of the rules.

“It’s a game named after him. Somebody’s it, and they go around with their eyes closed shouting Marco. Everybody else in the pool has to shout Polo back. You wanna locate somebody by sound alone and tag ’em, so _they’re_ it. If you think you’ve heard somebody get out of the pool, you can call Fish Out of Water. _That_ person’s it instead.”

“I know about pool volleyball,” Five volunteered. “Some of the Foxglove staff play in a league.”

“How ’bout tonight we look online for beach shit to wear to this shindig?” Jerome proposed.

That elicited the best kind of smile from Five. “I’m gonna find you a tacky Hawaiian shirt.”

Almost a week later, they turned up at Wayne Manor on the appointed Saturday with their shopping haul in Five’s canvas shoulder bag. It was ninety degrees out, and not even Jerome’s oversized Elton John sunglasses or Five’s classy aviators fully blocked the glare.

Alfred took one despairing look at them and showed them to the pool house without comment.

“I can hear them,” Five said, stripping perfunctorily once they were in the changing area. “I didn’t know Harley could shriek like that.”

Jerome, already in trunks and flip-flops with the Hawaiian shirt hanging open, helped Five tug the loose, ankle-length sundress down over his black asymmetrically strapped two-piece. With the aviators back on his face and the floppy sun hat back on his head, he looked…

“That’s sexy, precious,” Jerome said, pulling Five close. “Makes me wanna, y’know. Do stuff.”

Five flushed, grinning as Jerome kissed his neck. “Here? Like— _now_? I might be into—”

“If you guys are foolin’ around in there, knock it off!” Harley yelled. “We weren’t allowed!”

“Don’t listen to her!” Ivy added cheerfully. “Our kind hosts are probably doin’ it all the time!”

“I’ve never been out here before,” Jeremiah said, barely audible. “I can’t stress that enough.”

Jerome wondered why Bruce was silent, so he scooped Five up in his arms and carried him out.

Jeremiah wasn’t in the pool. He was sitting under one of the umbrellas on a reclining chair, dressed in pale linen and blue chambray like one of those preppy summer fashion ads. Bruce, on the other hand, had just surfaced out in the deep end. He was treading water.

Harley and Ivy waved, sprawled in oversized innertubes with glasses of blush sangria in hand.

“Did they send you dad’s crap after I killed him?” Jerome blurted, staring at Jeremiah’s gold-rimmed shades. “He wore ones like that.”

“I can’t fault your visual memory, for all your other sins,” Jeremiah replied with airy disdain.

“Dr. Quinn’s gonna have a field day with this,” Jerome said, depositing Five on the reclining chair next to Jeremiah. “You two had better play nice.”

“You shouldn’t call me that for a few more years,” Harley said. “Not that I’m gonna complain!”

“We were waiting on another body,” Bruce ventured, swimming up to the edge. “Volleyball?”

“Why not,” Jerome replied, leaving his shirt and sunglasses with Five. “Gingers versus nerds.”

“Hey, but I’m a nerd!” Ivy protested, hopping off her innertube. She set her drink on the side of the pool, snatched Harley’s drink from her hand, and did the same with it. “Aren’t I?”

“Red, you’re tryin’ too hard,” Harley said, swimming toward Jerome as he got in the water. “You’re on, motherfuckers! Where’s the beach ball?”

Jerome heard Jeremiah mutter _This’ll end in tears_ under his breath, which made Five scoff. He wasn’t worried about Five holding his own.

Meanwhile, Bruce had climbed out of the pool and fetched the inflatable ball from somewhere. He pitched it into the shallow end, and then fussed with the net rigging. There was a pole on either side of the pool’s midpoint.

Jerome corralled the ball until Ivy grabbed it and passed it from hand to hand. “Toss that end of the net down. I’ll swim it across.”

Once the net was sorted out, Jerome joined Ivy in the shallow end. All things considered, their two-on-two arrangement was fair. Bruce and Harley were the most athletic, but Jerome was confident he and Ivy could play dirty to make up for a lack of finesse.

“I won’t be your referee,” Jeremiah said, although Jerome noticed he was watching. “However, if you need someone to keep score—”

“I can,” Five cut in, sipping what looked like Ivy’s unfinished sangria. “I’m the most impartial.”

“Says Jerome’s biggest cheerleader,” Jeremiah shot back. “We’ll need Alfred for impartiality.”

“So we get Bruce’s biggest cheerleader instead?” Five retorted, delivering a flawless verbal backhand.

“Alfred’s not gonna touch this, either,” Jerome said, nodding at Ivy, who was ready to serve.

If Harley hadn’t been poised to send the ball sailing right back at them, they might’ve scored an easy, early point. Jerome failed to connect with the ball, but Ivy clipped it just in the nick of time, shrieking victoriously.

“Don’t feel bad!” Five called, scooting swiftly to the foot of his chair. “Ivy’s got your back!”

“Do you even know how the game is played?” Jeremiah asked, turning his displeasure on Five.

“In theory, yes,” Five said snippily, and it was all Jerome could do to parry Bruce’s rapid serve.

“Would you two shut the hell up?” Harley griped, spiking the ball in Ivy’s direction. “ _Score_!”

Ivy swam to fetch the ball, which had sailed right over her head. “Is anyone keepin’ track?”

“One to one,” Jeremiah said, immediately taking offense to Five’s muffled snicker. “What?”

“There are rules,” Five taunted, smirking at him. “Do _you_ even know how it’s played?”

“You tell him, sweet pea,” said Jerome, distractedly, as Ivy served with a determined shout.

The ball never stayed aloft for long. Jerome suspected from Five’s increasingly amused reactions they were indeed doing it wrong. Jeremiah stopped trying to keep score after about the third time Five corrected him.

At the point Bruce observed they were tied, ten to ten, Five said that meant the first team to reach fifteen would win. Jeremiah argued that even though their scoring system was flawed, it had remained consistent.

Jerome had to admit, even though he and Ivy lost, that it was satisfying to see Jeremiah just as on the edge of his seat as Five. He made his way to the edge and hurled the ball at his brother.

Jeremiah caught it, but wasn’t pleased about getting wet. “I’m not going to join your rematch.”

“Oh, I don’t think we want one,” Jerome said, surprised when Five got to his feet and shed everything but his swimsuit. “I’m just fuckin’ around.”

“You mentioned another game,” Five said, tilting his head at Jeremiah, who’d gone back to reading. He beckoned to Jerome, and then mimed pitching something into the water. “Marco Polo?”

“I used to play with Alfred and my parents,” Bruce said, swimming up to the edge even as Jerome did the same and shot Five a questioning look.

“For that, you’ve gotta be fast and have sharp ears,” Harley said, trying to haul Ivy underwater.

Five tilted his head at Jeremiah again. “I’m fast. _And_ strong.” 

Jerome finally got the gist, climbing hastily out of the pool.

“Get the other side,” Five said, stepping right up alongside Jeremiah’s chair. “One, two—”

Hauling Jeremiah out of his seat was easier than it should have been, as was throwing him in the pool. Bruce did a great job of pretending he didn’t find Jeremiah’s prissy drowned-rat expression hilarious, but Jerome knew better.

Five strode to the deep end and dove in, seeming to touch the bottom with ease before surfacing.

Jerome sat down, dangling his legs in the water, fascinated. “How long can you hold your breath?”

Fussing with his bedraggled braid, Five shrugged and kept treading water. “I’m not really sure.”

“Wait, you mean you don’t know?” Jeremiah asked Jerome, tossing his drenched shirt at him.

“Holding my breath in _that_ context would make no sense,” Five said. “My nose works fine.”

“Jeez, would you guys shut up,” Harley griped, resisting Ivy’s attempts at retaliation. “Are we gonna play this kiddies’ game or what?”

“We need to decide who’s calling Marco first,” Bruce said, salvaging Jeremiah’s sunken sunglasses. “How about one of the losers?”

“Volleyball losers, or losers generally?” Ivy asked. “If the latter, everybody here is eligible.”

“Volleyball losers,” Harley said. “Babe, I love ya, but you can be a real dipshit sometimes.”

Jerome shrugged and slid back into the water, paddling his way to Five. “You better run.”

Five flung his arms around Jerome’s neck, briefly submerging both of them in his enthusiasm.

“You’ll never catch me,” Five said between breathless, chlorine-slick kisses, and then swam off.

Taking the hint, Jerome closed his eyes and focused on treading water. “Sure, princess. Marco!”

Staying put for a while, just to get a feel for how everyone’s voices sounded, quickly led to increased peevishness from Jeremiah. Jerome could hear it in Jeremiah’s inflection, and he could hear restless, impatient unease mounting in everyone else’s.

Five’s voice had grown softer and more detached until, on the next call, he didn’t respond.

“If you’re not going to play, get out,” Jeremiah said, bringing all other sound to a standstill.

“Hang on,” Five said haltingly, and then a sudden, splashing impact resulted in shouting.

Jerome opened his eyes and rushed toward where Five and Jeremiah were struggling against each other. There was blood in the water.

“Time out! You’re it, bro,” Jerome warned menacingly, hauling Jeremiah bodily away from Five. “Seriously, did you have to punch—”

“He didn’t,” Five said, motionless in the shallows, staring at the fresh rivulets in his hands. His face was bloody, lips and chin smeared with it.

Jeremiah wrestled free of Jerome’s grasp, staring uneasily at Five. “Did I…elbow you, then?”

“Wait, is that…” Bruce pushed off the wall where he’d been lingering in the deep end, swimming toward them fast. “When was the last time?”

“Few years ago,” Five said, not resisting as Jerome pulled him close. “I thought it had stopped.”

Jerome felt his chest seize with panic as he wiped the blood from Five’s face, only to watch more drip into the water. Bruce had mentioned this, hadn’t he—and hadn’t Strange, too, right before Oswald and Edward killed him?

Jerome stroked Five’s sunburnt cheeks. “No no no _no_ , I fucked up, I should’ve listened—”

Five shrugged, curiously calm, pressing the back of his hand to his nostrils. “What? When?”

“I mentioned it to Jerome the morning you FaceTimed us from the bunker,” Bruce said quietly.

“I told him about it, too,” Five said defensively, tilting his head back. “I was dismissive since it hadn’t happened in so long. I’m the fuck-up.”

“Is anybody gonna explain what’s going on?” Harley asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Ivy, who’d been watching from her perch on one of the chairs, hopped back into the pool. She swam to where Jerome lingered with Five.

“It’s from what Strange did to us,” she said, prying Five’s hand away from his face. “Indian Hill.”

Jerome steadied Five as he reclined to float on his back. The blood-flow seemed to be subsiding.

“Yes,” he agreed indifferently, shifting his gaze between Jerome and Ivy as they leaned over him.

Harley and Bruce had closed in, too—but Jeremiah had fallen back, keeping an aloof distance.

“So, uh, who do we ask about fixin’ this?” Jerome asked, trying to conceal his hysteria. “Fox?”

“That would be a start,” Bruce agreed reluctantly. “How do you feel? Are you lightheaded?”

Five shook his head, closing his eyes. He righted himself again, feet touching the tiled bottom.

“Dehydrated, or…feverish, like at Jeri’s after the parade,” he said. “Maybe sunstroke triggers it.”

Jerome shook his head, folding Five in his arms, shielding him from the others’ lurid scrutiny.

“Your nose didn’t bleed that day, precious,” he insisted. “We got you hydrated. That was that.”

Five shrugged again. “Could be a fluke, but…Jeremiah didn’t hit me, not even by accident.”

Ivy examined Five’s skin, peering intently at his eyes. “Hey, I need some medical input here.”

Knowing what he knew about Ivy’s plant expertise, Jerome felt slightly calmer. “For what?”

“Narrowing down your options,” she said, tucking some stray tendrils of Five’s damp hair behind his ears. “I’ve got ideas, but corroboration helps.”

“Our options for what?” Five asked warily. “Treating this, in case it’s still…killing me?”

Jerome’s heart just about stopped. “Who said anything about it killin’ you, sweet pea?”

Five gave him a guilty, miserable look. “That doctor with the Court of Owls. I told you he thought it was serious at the time, but…”

“There’s Dr. Thompkins at the GCPD,” Jeremiah said abruptly. “She worked on Jerome the night you brought him to the station.”

“There’s a difference between this and patchin’ up scrapes and stitchin’ up corpses, genius,” Jerome shot back. “This thing’s complicated. Genetic.”

“Lee is a skilled internist and surgeon,” Bruce said, heading for the steps leading up and out of the shallow end. “I’ll call Jim to see if she’s in.”

Five clung to Jerome, burying his face in Jerome’s neck as clouds obscured the sun, shivering.

“I don’t want to go to the precinct,” he whispered with subdued spite. “I want to go home.”

“You’d better ask if she’s willing to do a house call in Midtown,” Ivy told Bruce as he dried off.

“I’ll offer to pay well for her time,” Bruce replied, glancing reassuringly at Jeremiah as he left.

Jerome helped Five out of the pool, bundling him in one of their oversized towels once they got back to Five’s chair. Jeremiah, Harley, and Ivy had followed them out of the pool, and were now just awkwardly hovering.

Jeremiah took a few steps closer, reaching hesitantly for Jerome’s shoulder. “Is there anything—”

“Go tell Brucie or Alfred—or whoever, I don’t care—to have a car ready,” Jerome said curtly.

“Right,” Jeremiah said. He gathered his things from the other chair and started for the house.

Five shoved his stuff into the canvas bag, and then Jerome’s, seeming strangely calm. “C’mon.”

“Do you want us to come by later, after…” Ivy exchanged looks with Harley. “Uh, after Lee?”

“We’ll text you,” Jerome said, rushing after Five into the pool house. “Princess, what gives?”

Seemingly unbothered at the turn of events, Five dropped the canvas bag next to their lockers and stripped out of the wet halves of his suit. He tugged Jerome forward, pushing his trunks down off his hips.

“Shower before we leave?” Five asked softly, running his palms up Jerome’s chest. “Nothing’s changed. I’ve been sick since we met. Since always.”

Jerome nodded, leaning in to kiss Five’s neck. “Me too, precious. Two sick peas in a pod, huh?”

Five helped Jerome step out of his trunks, and then took his hand. “Shower’s over here.”

Scrubbing each other with the fancy lavender-scented body wash devolved pretty quickly into frantic kissing and groping. Five backed up against the tiled wall so Jerome could pin him securely against it.

“Whatever you want,” Five gasped, shamelessly grabbing Jerome’s ass. “Nothing’s changed.”

“You’re not afraid?” Jerome asked, tugging the elastic out of Five’s drenched hair, threading his fingers through the long, curling strands. “Because I’ve gotta admit, I’m kinda, _uh_.” He swallowed. “Losin’ my shit.”

Five shook his head, fixing Jerome with a look so earnest it was comforting. “Not anymore.”

“Why were you afraid before?” Jerome asked, sliding his thigh between Five’s, grinding there.

Five tipped his head back, mouth wide open, but all he did was gasp and sigh. “I was alone.”

Jerome nodded sympathetically, nuzzling the warm pulse-point beneath Five’s ear. “I get that.”

“I like that you do,” Five said, his fingertips digging in between Jerome’s ribs. “ _Jerome_ —”

Jerome dropped to his knees, lapping at Five’s navel before taking Five’s cock in his mouth.

Five tangled his fingers in Jerome’s hair, respiration growing harsh as the seconds passed.

“C’mon,” Jerome coaxed, pulling off him to draw a feverish breath. “Pretty, pretty baby.”

“M’close,” Five whimpered, raking his fingers down to the back of Jerome’s neck. “ _Fuck_.”

Jerome didn’t choke this time, alarmed at how much less than usual there was to swallow.

When Five pushed Jerome flat on the tiled floor, Jerome tugged him down into his arms.

“Hey,” he whispered, guiding Five’s hand down, curling it around himself. “Like this.”

“I wanted to return the favor,” Five protested, stroking Jerome attentively. “I feel fine.”

“Not up for debate,” Jerome gasped. At the sting of Five’s teeth in his neck, he came.

“Whatever happens,” Five panted afterward, slumping contently against him, “you have me.”

Jerome fussed with Five’s soaked hair, thoroughly out of breath. “You have me, too,” he said.


	2. Crime Pays, Botany Doesn't

Five hadn’t been telling the truth when Bruce asked him if he felt lightheaded. He was dizzy by the time Jerome helped him to his feet after their shower in the pool house. He kept his eyes shut, his head resting against Jerome’s shoulder, for the entirety of the ride to Midtown.

Surely Five hadn’t lost so much blood that it was the sole cause of how he was feeling. He could only hope that the ensuing endorphin rush and the relentless heat of the sun had contributed. The nosebleeds had never made him feel ill before; they’d only rattled him.

Jerome tipped Bruce’s driver and led Five into the parking garage elevator. It was nice to have an entry option that didn’t involve having to walk through the opulent lobby. They’d endured enough stares for the day.

Once the penthouse door was locked behind them, Jerome helped Five out of his slightly damp clothes. He sprawled motionless on the bed, exhausted, while Jerome re-dressed him in fresh underwear, leggings, his favorite Pusheen t-shirt, and his ratty black hoodie.

“You gonna be okay, precious?” Jerome asked, leaning over him, his expression stuck between worried and a disgruntled pout. “Want me to bring you somethin’? Headphones? Tea?”

Five shook his head, reaching up to touch Jerome’s face. He traced Jerome’s scars, running his thumb along Jerome’s lower lip. He wanted—no, _needed_ —to remember. If death came for him when he was alone, he’d think of this.

“Rest with me until Dr. Thompkins gets here?” Five asked quietly, his pulse spiking as Jerome kissed his palm. “You look really tired, too.”

“The sun’ll do that to ya,” Jerome agreed with feigned levity, settling down next to Five. “Spent my summers with the circus lookin’ like a lobster.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not afraid,” Five said. “Just because I’m not right now doesn’t mean I won’t be tomorrow.” He closed his eyes.

“You’re less pink than I thought you’d get,” said Jerome, running his fingertips along Five’s jaw.

Five shrugged, leaning into the touch. “We both put on, like, 50 SPF. Good thing I made you.”

“I’m nobody to refuse a bribe,” Jerome said, pressing their foreheads together. “Better pay up.”

Five kissed Jerome deep and filthy, drunk on the memory of what they’d done earlier. “One.”

“Forty-nine more to go,” Jerome cautioned, winking at him. “Fifty kisses for 50 SPF, right?”

“Right,” Five said, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation. “Might take me a while. Did the ones in the shower count? Even the ones…not on your mouth? I’m halfway there if they do.”

“Nope, they only count starting now,” Jerome said, sighing as Five kissed him again. “Two.”

“Only kisses on the lips count?” Five asked dubiously. “I kiss you pretty much everywhere.”

Jerome suddenly looked torn. “Hey, uh…earlier, did I make you feel like you had to…do that?”

Five shook his head. “I did that because you brought up the idea before we swam. I liked it.”

Jerome’s breath hitched, his mouth quirking in a half-smile. “Liked that we coulda been caught?”

“Kind of,” Five said. “What I liked _more_ was how much it would piss off Bruce and your brother.”

“Useful practice for if we ever get sent to Arkham,” Jerome mused. “There’s zero privacy.”

“I would want people to hear us there,” Five replied adamantly. “They’d know you’re mine.”

“Look at us, talkin’ about shit as if we have a future,” Jerome sighed. “Real rosy, princess.”

“We do,” Five said, just in time for a knock to sound at the door. “Did security let her in?”

“Don’t think so,” Jerome said darkly, getting up, heading for the door, “but I know who did.”

Five stared at the ceiling while Jerome let in what sounded like more people than they had been expecting.

“Looks like we’re popular today,” Jerome announced, leading their company into the bedroom.

Five sat up. He glared at Bruce and Jeremiah, who were trying to hide behind Lee and Lucius.

“You two have moved up in the world since last I saw you,” Lee said, staring as she entered.

“Perks of being related to a Wayne,” Lucius said, but not unkindly. “I’d know. I married in.”

Jerome laughed at that, the sharpness of it betraying his nerves. “You sure got that right.”

“Alfred’s not a Wayne,” Five said. “Not in name, anyway. What are you going to do to me?”

Bruce cleared his throat, indicating that they should use the credenza for purposes of setting down their bags and sorting through their medical supplies. He gave Five an apologetic look, clearly about to give orders.

“They’ll be drawing blood for some tests,” Bruce said, offering the folder he’d had tucked under his arm to Lee. “They’ll be matching the results against what’s in your file, which I hope will help.”

Five felt a surge of anger as he watched the proceedings. He knew D.A. Dent had seized what was left in the ruins of Indian Hill, but it hadn’t occurred to him Bruce would obtain a copy without permission.

Unexpectedly, Jeremiah grabbed the file out of Bruce’s hand and offered it to Five instead.

“You haven’t seen it in a while, I’m guessing,” he said. “You should look through it first.”

Five started to flip through the pages, too annoyed to register any of it as new information.

“Thanks,” Jerome said uncomfortably, not trying to scoot away when Jeremiah joined him at the foot of the bed. “Five, uh, saw some of your records when we were crashin’ at the bunker. Just sayin’. Eye for an eye.”

Jeremiah shrugged, glancing apathetically at Five. “Then we’re even at this point, aren’t we?”

Bruce looked like he was about to try joining the twins where they sat, but Lee chose that moment to take the file away from Five. She gestured toward the door, which made Jerome narrow his eyes at her in suspicion.

“Let’s make this an efficient visit for everyone’s sake,” Lee said. “You three—out, please.”

Lucius’s sheepish expression suggested he felt guilty. “Five, if you want Jerome to stay—”

“No,” Five said, realizing this would be the worst time imaginable for Jerome to have an episode in reaction to hearing the bad news blow-by-blow as they examined him. “Please wait in the living room. I’ll be fine.”

Jerome didn’t look happy, but Jeremiah and Bruce led him out before he could protest his exile.

“That was brave of you,” Lee said once they were gone, pulling on a pair of latex exam gloves.

Five glared as she prepared the needle, tubing, and syringe. “Not really. I just can’t feel pain.”

“Brave for Jerome’s sake, then,” Lucius said, counting a sequence of labeled vials. “Not yours.”

Five watched Lee stack some pillows, maneuver Five’s arm to lie across the pile, and start to prod around for promising veins.

“Why isn’t Ivy here?” Five demanded, turning his head away as Lee swiftly inserted the needle.

“We promise we’ll be meeting with her once we have results,” Lucius said. “Likely tomorrow.”

“If you use the device in your bag, those should give you rapid results,” Five countered bitterly.

“We have to take about ten samples,” Lee said, already filling a second vial with Five’s blood as it coursed through the tubing. “We don’t fully know what we’ll see, or what to look for.”

“They took close to twenty once,” Five said, feeling lightheaded again. “Strange and Peabody.”

“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through,” Lee said, unable to meet Five’s eyes as she worked.

“If you find out this is treatable,” Five said, relieved Lucius could meet his gaze, “I don’t want it to happen in a lab. Jerome won’t want that, either.”

“We don’t know anything just yet,” Lucius said calmly. “For now, you’re not going anywhere.”

“We can’t promise that,” Lee said, halfway through the vials now, frowning at the blood flow in the tube. “Hospitalization might be necessary.”

“I don’t want Jerome to kill you and get sent back to Arkham,” Five muttered dizzily, swaying.

“Jerome’s not as trigger happy as he used to be,” Lee said, fussing with the tubing. “Breathe.”

Five inhaled. The next thing he knew, Lucius was bent over him, pressing cloth to his forehead.

“We’re finished,” he said. “You were out for half an hour or so. Want me to help you up?”

Five shook his head, frowning as Lee bent over him, too. He felt pressure on his arm, and a quick brush of his fingers found they’d put gauze and tape at the draw site. The dull throb beneath his skin was what so many others experienced as pain.

“Can you tell anything so far?” Five asked, forcing himself up on his elbows. “Even a guess?”

“Too early for a full run-down, but I can tell you it looks autoimmune,” Lee said hesitantly.

Five searched his memory for what he’d read about that term. “My cells attack themselves?”

“That, or accelerated apoptosis,” Lucius said, reconsidering his phrasing. “Mass breakdown.”

“I think,” Five said slowly, “that the latter sounds a lot worse than the former. Is that right?”

“Depends,” Lee said. “If you have an autoimmune disorder, it’s one we’ve never seen before. I’m still hoping for that, though, because your clusters of nosebleeds have been so spread out. It might be something that just flares up from time to time. What we wouldn’t want to see is the nosebleeds becoming more constant. Today’s was your first in several years, Bruce said?”

Five nodded. He could relate Lee’s explanation to Jerome in a way that didn’t sound too dire.

“What if it’s the other thing—apoptosis? What if my cells are breaking down too fast?”

“I won’t know that until I’ve had a closer look,” Lucius replied. “Try not to speculate.”

“I’m gonna have to tell Jerome something,” Five retorted. “I don’t have much choice.”

“If it’s like what I was saying,” Lee said placatingly, “Ivy might have better solutions.”

“Okay,” Five said, pushing himself into a fully sitting position. “Will you leave now?”

Lucius nodded, steering Lee away from the bed. “We’ll send Jerome in on our way out.”

As soon as he was alone, Five flopped sideways, curling in on himself against the duvet. He breathed harshly into the finely woven cotton.

When the door opened, Five didn’t bother to sit up. The mattress dipped beside him, its familiar give beneath Jerome’s weight reassuring.

Jerome hauled him into a sitting position, but it was Jeremiah who put the mug of tea in his hands. Bruce just stood back and watched.

“They said you wanted to do the honors,” Jeremiah said when it was clear Jerome couldn’t find the wherewithal to do anything except hold Five as tightly as he could without impeding Five’s ability to drink. “If you remember the clinical terms, I can translate.”

Detachedly, Five realized there was some humor inherent in the fact that Jerome and Bruce were dealing with this less gracefully than the two biggest biological freaks in the room. He looked Jeremiah in the eyes and didn’t perceive any of his resentment from earlier.

“Dr. Thompkins believes it may turn out to be an unclassified autoimmune disorder. She said that my spread-out nosebleeds might mean it only flares up once in a while. They’ll still try to treat it, because it’s not great if my cells keep attacking themselves. Otherwise, it…”

Jeremiah gestured impatiently, prompting him to keep going. “It might be something else?”

Five nodded, covering Jerome’s hands, which were clasped over Five’s heart, with his own.

“Apoptosis. Cell breakdown. If it’s that, they don’t know yet how slow it is, or how fast.”

“What did they say about involving Ivy?” Bruce asked, struggling to keep his tone even.

“She would have better chances of helping them treat an autoimmune issue,” Five said.

Jeremiah nodded, setting his hands on his hips. He walked over to join Bruce, and then said something too quiet for Five to hear.

“Hey,” Five said, twisting around in Jerome’s arms, pressing the mug to Jerome’s lips. “Drink?”

Jerome accepted the tea, grimacing as he finished what was left of it. “Hell of a day, sweet pea.”

Five nodded in agreement, and then turned to Bruce and Jeremiah. “Thanks. You should go.”

Jeremiah nodded hesitantly, one hand lingering on Bruce’s shoulder even as Bruce turned for the door. He glanced at Jerome, and then at Five.

“Don’t worry,” Five said, fumbling his phone from his pocket. “We’ll talk to Ivy. Promise.”

Jerome didn’t say anything as he watched Jeremiah and Bruce leave, intent on the text message Five typed three different ways before sending it.

Five let Ivy and Harley in about forty minutes later. “He’s been staring at the wall while I talk.”

“That kinda shock’s not just a nut-job thing,” Harley reassured him, kicking off her shoes. “Anybody who’s heard their partner might be wastin’ away can react like that.”

“How are you, though?” Ivy asked, dumping her messenger bag on the sofa. Her laptop and a stack of field guides and pharmaceutical manuals slid out. “I have to admit, I started pokin’ around as soon as we got home from the pool earlier. Found some stuff that might be relevant.”

Five sat down next to Ivy right away. “It’s either an autoimmune disorder or mass apoptosis.”

Ivy chewed her lip as she booted up her laptop. “Did they give time frames on those options?”

Five watched Harley march down the hall toward the bedroom. “Variable. They don’t know.”

“If your nosebleeds are intermittent over long periods, it really might be autoimmune, cyclical.”

“Dr. Thompkins said something like that, yes. Fox seems worried about apoptosis, if it’s rapid.”

“I hope she doesn’t leave him with any worse emotional scars than he’s already got,” Ivy sighed, staring down the hall, where Harley had vanished. “She’s gonna make him talk.”

“Nobody can make him talk if he doesn’t want to,” Five said, reaching for a book. “Trust me.”

“So, like, I’ve treated some gnarly stuff with my plants,” Ivy said, opening a document on her screen. “I didn’t really have a teacher, I just…learned it as I went, from books and hands-on experience. You grow up in the Narrows, you learn to survive. I wanted to help plants survive, but I ended up learning to help people survive while I was at it.”

“Bridgit told me you make it look like witchcraft,” Five said, flipping pages. The volume he’d chosen was on medicinal and edible plants of the Pacific Northwest. “I trust you.”

“Good, ’cause I’m kinda flying by the seat of my pants,” Ivy sighed, tapping keys and scrolling. “I’ve got shit in my greenhouse that might stimulate cell regeneration, but like…mass apoptosis, or whatever, sounds like it moves _fast_. I might not be able to synthesize shit quick enough to keep up.”

“Lee said you would have a better chance at finding a solution if it’s autoimmune,” Five admitted. “Is it because you’d have more time, rather than what your plants can do?”

“Yeah,” Ivy muttered gloomily, side-eyeing Five. “You really don’t miss a trick, do ya?”

Five shook his head. “Strange said I had an overactive imagination, but…I knew better.”

Ivy sat back, tapping her jaw. “We’ve gotta come at this like it’s the worst thing, got it?”

“I agree,” Five said. “I feel kind of like…it’s a reckoning, like Lucius knows already.”

“If we try to halt full-scale breakdown, the most that can happen is nothing,” Ivy replied. “Actually, it’s funny you picked that book. There’s some stuff in that region I haven’t been able to cultivate here, but if I got my hands on some, we could experiment.”

“Get your hands on some like…go out there and find it?” Five asked. “Is it illegal to harvest?”

“Some is, some isn’t,” Ivy said. “The one I need, _C. bulbosa_? Could get us slapped with a fine.”

“You mean we’d be committing plant crimes?” Five asked, almost laughing at the absurdity of it.

“Sure!” Ivy replied cheerfully. “Oh, I’ve gotta show you—there’s this Chicago gangster-sounding dude with a YouTube channel called Crime Pays But Botany Doesn’t. He hates people as much as I do. His vids are _dope_.”

“If you hate people,” Five said, watching her open a new browser tab, “why are you helping me?”

“You and me, we’re not people,” Ivy said, typing rapidly into the search bar. “Freaks stick together.”

“You mean we’re not people according to most other people?” Five asked. “Because I just…”

“If somebody calls you a freak, reclaim it,” Ivy said. “If somebody calls you a monster, own it.”

“Jerome does better with that,” Five sighed, glancing up as Harley returned. “How is he doing?”

“I dunno, to be honest,” Harley replied, and then pointed to the book in Five’s lap. “Road trip?”

Ivy punched the air. “Hell yeah, three to one! Unless you ran it by Jerome while you were in there?”

Five got to his feet, handing the book back to Ivy. “You can let yourselves out, or just…stay, I guess.”

Harley shooed him out. “Leave the logistics to me. That was my whole-ass job workin’ for J.”

In the bedroom, Five found Jerome lying on his back with his arms resting above his head.

“You heard what we were talking about,” Five said, hating that he and Ivy had carried on so loudly.

“That apoptosis thing would mean you’re gonna die, wouldn’t it?” Jerome asked plaintively.

“ _Shhh_ ,” Five said, reaching for Jerome’s weekly pill organizer on the nightstand. “Meds.”

“I think Harley’s doin’ her best to prepare me for the worst, or whatever,” Jerome sighed, watching Five shake the pills into his palm. “Therapists are the worst sometimes. Just can’t let a guy get on with the delusion everything’s fine. You said they gave you stuff in the lab, I mean…aside from the mood stuff, what was your major malfunction?”

Five set the pill organizer back down. He’d just seen his chart again for the first time in years.

“I got depressed sometimes,” he admitted. “I just…wouldn’t want to do anything. I’d fight if they tried to take me from my room by force, so…I know that’s why they started sedating me before they even put me under. It’s…why they decided to erase my memory, too.”

Jerome stared at him. “Somethin’ tells me I’d better not read your file, or I’ll wanna go hunting.”

Five shrugged, covering the pills with his other hand. He shook them absently between his palms.

“I’d go with you. I don’t think there are many of them left, though. Maybe some are current Arkham orderlies.”

Jerome yawned, rubbing Five’s thigh with sleepy affection. “Let’s stay outta there, princess.”

Five picked up the glass of stale water, deciding to empty the gabapentin into it like Jerome had once done for him. That would at least cut down the number Jerome had to swallow.

“I don’t want anyone left alive who has hurt you,” he admitted, “so I can understand why you’d want to kill everyone who’s hurt me. I appreciate it.”

Jerome accepted the handful of pills, sorting through them. “We can’t risk fuckin’ this up, can we?”

“Our second chance?” Five asked, taking the pills back one at a time. “We can, but shouldn’t.”

“You better put an extra of the, uh, yellow one in the water,” Jerome replied, lying back down.

“Everything else okay as-is?” Five asked, retrieving another capsule from the organizer, doing as Jerome asked without hesitation. “I want to make sure it’s enough. I’m surprised Harley didn’t make you take these while she was in here.”

Jerome twisted his lips in a sardonic smile. “She claimed that would be overstepping her role.”

Five put the pills in Jerome’s mouth one by one, pressing the the glass to his lips. He removed his own from the other organizer and swallowed them in a single brash handful before making Jerome finish off the glass of water.

“That thing about holdin’ your breath,” Jerome sighed in hazy admiration. “Where’s the lie?”

Five finally took the glass away, set it aside, and cuddled up to him. “ _Shhh_. Sleep.”


	3. Monsters Like Us

Harley flopped backwards over the arm of the sofa that Ivy and her mess of books had been occupying for the better part of three hours. She couldn’t blame the boys for having gone to bed early, not after the rough day they’d had.

“Is it wrong of me to think of ’em as boys?” Harley mused, swinging her legs. “I mean…Five.”

Ivy didn’t stop typing. The perplexed face she made was adorable even viewed upside-down.

“They both use masculine pronouns, at least for now,” Ivy said. “I dunno. Five’s gotta be, like…the genderfluid kinda nonbinary, from what I’ve seen? Jerome calls him everything. Baby boy, baby girl, princess, precious, sweet pea…” She shrugged. “I’d say it’s not wrong if Five considers himself at least partly all of the above. Oh, and don’t ever call me any of that cutesy shit. I like Red and babe just fine.”

“Sugar lips,” Harley crooned tauntingly, reaching above her head, twisting her hands around to mess with Ivy’s keyboard. “Sweetie pie. _Puddin_ ’.”

“Gross,” Ivy said, slapping Harley’s hands away. “How would you like it if I called you something like…I dunno. Honey. Sweetheart. _Petal_.”

“Nobody says that last one,” Harley snorted, forcing herself to rapidly sit up. “Oof, head rush.”

“They do in England,” Ivy asserted, finally closing her laptop. “Alfred called Selina that once.”

“Jeez, now you’re really sellin’ it,” Harley griped, hugging her knees to her chest. “I’m tired.”

Ivy ruffled Harley’s pigtails, which weren’t really holding their haphazardly pinned bun-shapes.

“Five said we could crash here,” she said. “The guest room’s totally got a fancy ensuite bath.”

“I hope to hell you’ve got some route proposals,” Harley yawned, dragging Ivy off the sofa.

“I saved a few maps,” Ivy said as Harley led her down the hall. “Jerome’s gonna have opinions, though. He must know shortcuts to everywhere.”

“Bruce is gonna lose his shit when he catches wind of this,” Harley said once they were safe in the spare room. She stripped down to nothing, leaving her clothes on the floor, and wandered over to the bed. “This has gotta be a queen at least. Nah, maybe a California king.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Ivy said, undressing slowly as she watched Harley flip down the covers and sink into the mattress. “How do you do it?”

Harley propped herself up on her elbows, watching Ivy, who’d left on her startlingly practical boy shorts, tentatively approach the bed. Sure, they’d been sharing Ivy’s bed for a couple months and even messed around, but they both had hefty baggage.

“Do what?” Harley asked, scooting over, patting the space beside her. “Let it all hang out?”

Ivy nodded, sliding into bed, yawning. “Yeah,” she sighed. “With so much confidence.”

Harley shrugged. “It was tough until the HRT kicked in. Took me ages to grow tits. Even then, they ain’t huge. You’ve seen the push-ups I wear.”

Ivy stroked Harley’s cheek, trailing her fingertips down to Harley’s collarbone, and then lower.

“I’d give you mine, believe me,” Ivy said, brushing Harley’s sternum. “I wouldn’t mind if…I was flat again. I love the rest of my figure, wouldn’t trade it for anything, but…this,” she sighed in frustration, gesturing at her chest. “Other girls like me, they tend to luck out, you know? Next to nothin’, which…I _know_ how I must sound. So many girls wish they had more.”

Harley leaned in and kissed her—slow and languid, without any particular agenda. She sighed.

“You oughta tell Five sometime. It might help him, knowin’ he and J ain’t the only ones with baseline wonky chromosomes and hormones. Shit, J would be fascinated to realize he knows somebody with CAIS. He’s felt kinda alone in the whole PAIS thing.”

“I never woulda known what was up if not for the hocus-pocus growth spurt,” Ivy said, opening up more than Harley could remember the first couple times they’d talked. “At the time, I thought…hell, this means I’m gonna start to bleed. But…I didn’t, and didn’t, and _still_ didn’t, and it made me wonder. Selina started when we were like…God, eleven or something. I never did back then, and I never did after that freak zapped me, either. I asked Lee about it. She did an exam, scans, everything. She said she couldn’t see what _should_ be in there, so she ordered a karyotype test.”

“Look, your XY chromosomes don’t make you a boy any more than my XY chromosomes make _me_ a boy, okay?” Harley sighed in frustration. “I haven’t told you this, but I want surgery. I kinda envy that your outsides—at least, uh, downstairs—don’t cause you grief like mine cause me.”

Ivy kissed her back. “If you get it, do it for you, okay? Not for me. I don’t give a damn what you’ve got. I mostly don’t give a damn what I’ve got, either. Boobs are just…kinda the worst. They get in the way.”

“Can’t agree with you there, ’cause I love mine,” Harley yawned. “Gotta admit, I love yours, too, but if you don’t love ’em, I totally respect that. We both got bits we could do without. C’est la vie.”

“Even just a reduction,” Ivy sighed, reaching over Harley to turn out the lamp. “I’d be fine.”

“I don’t 100% know Five’s biz, but like…gotta envy him for ownin’ his whole damn deal,” Harley said. “Look, maybe one day we’ll wake up happy. Does it help that I love yours, and you love mine?”

Ivy gave a slight nod, settling back down against the pillows. “I get the impression he and Jerome have issues with their scars more than anything else. But they dig _each other’s_ scars, so…”

“Case in point,” Harley mumbled, already starting to drift. She patted Ivy’s hair. “Night night.”

They slept fitfully at first, unaccustomed to such a fancy mattress and so many pillows. Harley got used to it somewhere around midnight, and passed out _hard_ until Ivy shook her awake around ten in the morning.

“I don’t think they’re up,” Ivy whispered. “There’s not a soul stirring anywhere in this place.” 

“The meds hit both of ’em hard, especially if they need to bump up the dosage,” Harley replied.

“There’s no way I’m getting back to sleep,” Ivy said. “This bed’s too weird. Let’s find food.”

They washed up and got dressed, making their leisurely way to the kitchen. An inspection of the cabinets and pantry turned up a whole slew of amazing junk. Alfred would probably have a fit over the sheer quantity of processed sugar.

“I’ll brew the coffee an’ make you some green tea if you’ll sort out the Pop-Tarts,” said Harley.

They were in the middle of breakfast, peering at Ivy’s laptop between them on the table, when Jerome and Five appeared in the doorway. Kissing that much should’ve resulted in tripping or running into walls, but they seemed to know the layout of the place well enough to flaunt it.

Harley watched Five pin Jerome against the doorjamb, whispering something against his mouth.

“Hey, ’morning!” Ivy said brightly, drawing their sleepy, startled attention. “You guys hungry?”

“I could eat,” Jerome yawned, evidently feeling more sociable than Five, who looked cranky.

“Five told us we could stay here last night, FYI,” Harley said, handing Jerome some coffee.

“I forgot,” Five mumbled irritably, wrinkling his nose when Jerome tried to offer him a sip.

Jerome helped him onto the stool next to Ivy, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “What d’you want?”

“Oatmeal,” Five mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “The tea Ivy’s having.”

Harley gave Jerome a smug look, which got her summarily flipped off as he went to the cupboard to fetch the box of instant packets. She was never going to let him live down the morning she’d gone to have breakfast with them at the bunker.

Ivy handed Five her mug. “I’ll take the fresh tea.” She turned her laptop toward Five, showing him one of the driving routes. “So, I was thinkin’…”

Harley left her seat, trailing over to join Jerome at the microwave. “You feelin’ all right?”

“Peachy,” Jerome said, dumping a packet of Strawberries & Cream and a packet of Blueberries & Cream in the same bowl. “Five mentioned a trip’s on the cards. If those two are porin’ over maps, then what’s our assignment?”

“Wheels,” Harley said, getting started on Ivy’s replacement tea. “We’ll need to rent an RV.”

“Been meanin’ to buy one,” Jerome yawned, heating Five’s cereal. “Might as well bite the bullet.”

Harley whistled, dumping water from the kettle into the mug. “Does Bruce know about that?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Jerome said, removing the bowl from the microwave. “Milk, princess?”

“Just a little bit!” Five called back, lost again almost instantly in his and Ivy’s scheming. “Thanks!”

Harley followed Jerome back to the table once their partners’ consumables were ready, impressed with how quickly he seemed to focus. He set the bowl in front of Five, took one look at the laptop screen over Five’s shoulder, and pointed at Chicago.

“Past that point, we can go through Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, and Montana— _or_ we can hit up Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, and Idaho," Jerome said. "Seattle’s our endpoint, at least in theory? Haly’s never went there, dunno why.”

“Well, some of the forests up there,” Ivy admitted. “It’s easier to plug a city into Google.”

“What’s the difference time-wise?” Harley asked, slurping some of the tea before handing it over. “ _Ugh_ , babe—seriously? You enjoy this shit?”

“That’s what I said,” Jerome murmured teasingly in Five’s ear. “Forty-two, forty-three hours either way. There’s a whole lotta nothing in Iowa.”

“North Dakota’s not a friendly place for our ilk,” Ivy said darkly. “Neither is Montana.”

“I was gonna say,” Harley muttered, “maybe let’s not stop in Wyoming too long, either.”

“Oh,” Five said quietly, setting down his spoon. “I know about…what happened there. My co-workers at the Foxglove, some of them talked about it. Didn’t somebody write a play? Avi, one of the bartenders, they said I would like live theater.”

“Don’t think about that,” Harley said, rubbing Five’s shoulders, realizing how bad things must be if he felt unwell enough to imagine using his formidable combat skills. “Anyway, what am I sayin’? We’re only Gotham’s baddest bitches under thirty. Those dicks would be dead lickety-split.”

“Shit happens everywhere,” said Jerome. “I should know, ’cause I’ve always been either the victim or the perp. So, when do we hit the road?”

“Let’s wait until Doc and Fox get back to ya,” Harley said. “We can start RV-hunting ASAP. Take off as soon as the call comes.”

Five stiffened in his seat, pressing the nearest napkin he could find to his nose. “Fuck the call.”

Harley felt her gut twist as Jerome took over holding the napkin in place. He helped Five tilt his head back, his scarred features twisted in misery.

“We’ve gotta get on top of this,” Harley said to Ivy. “I was reading last night about sudden-onset blood disorders. ITP, Immune Thrombocytopenic Purpura? Seems like it might be relevant. Five, can you remember if either Lee or Lucius said anything that sounded like that?”

“Neither of them did,” Five said, somewhat muffled by the napkin. “Is that usually fatal?”

“Only if internal bleeding extends to the brain,” Harley said. “Luckily, that’s rare.”

“People like me are rare,” Five muttered darkly. “People like us. _Monsters_ like us.”

“ _Shhh_ , precious,” Jerome said, letting Five tilt his head back down and onto his shoulder. He turned to Ivy, leveling a murderous glare over Five’s head. “Think you can treat this?” he asked with reproach.

Ivy nodded once, curtly. “As long as I get access to the right plants. As long as I have time.”

“As long as Five has time,” Harley said, pulling up the number of a promising RV dealership. “And if he doesn’t, then we’ll fuckin’ _buy_ it.”

While the boys took their breakfast back to the bedroom, Ivy ran web searches for dealerships to add to Harley’s list. She looked thoughtful.

“The legit ones aren’t places you want to deal with,” Ivy said, thinking out loud. “Pengy says.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m hella glad your employer’s shadier than mine was,” Harley said. “Makes me feel morally upstanding.”

“You say that like Jeremiah’s not _still_ ,” Ivy teased. “Think he’s gonna corrupt Bruce?”

Harley snorted, setting down her phone. “Hah, that’s funny. You think Bruce is a saint?”

“No,” Ivy shot back petulantly. “I agree when Cat says he’s got a stick up his ass, though.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure J’s been workin’ on that issue,” Harley said, “in more ways than one.”

“You’re gross,” Ivy said, typing rapidly. “Do you think I’m insane for thinkin’ I can help?”

“Not if what you told me about that time with Cat is true,” Harley said reluctantly. “Is it?”

“Yup,” Ivy said with pride. “She was in real bad shape. I used one of my unique cultivars.”

Harley tapped the work-top, trying to figure out what was bugging her. “Wasn’t it Five who—”

“Yeah, but like…we were fucked-up kids back then,” Ivy insisted. “He was being manipulated.”

Putting her hands in the air, Harley just sighed. “I wanna make sure you’re not gonna, I dunno—”

“Poison him?” Ivy asked. “Get my revenge? Harls, grow up. I don’t hold grudges like that.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Harley said. “I heard you offed some guy for not waterin’ his houseplants.”

“Yeah, well, that guy was a douche,” Ivy said, typing some more. “I found this secondhand dealer who isn’t known for asking questions.”

“According to who, Yelp?” Harley asked. “I always had to go dark web for that kinda info. Unless the folks at Merc are branchin’ out.”

“The Merc’s got nothin’ to do with my connections,” Ivy said, scrawling down the number.

Harley smirked at her. “They ain’t got a home and garden counterpart? Nightshades ’R’ Us?”

“Ooh, good one,” Ivy said, snapping her laptop shut. “I oughta use that for my side racket.”

“I wish you wouldn’t let Goth Dad and Green Dad boss you around,” Harley said wistfully.


	4. Riding Shotgun

Ivy wasn’t sure what was more enjoyable—watching Five wander from plant to plant in undisguised wonder, or watching _Jerome_ watch Five in undisguised adoration. No matter how many times she saw that dazed expression on Jerome’s face, it was startling.

“What’s going on with these?” Five asked, crouching next to several massive pots of overgrown tomato plants. He’d found the waxy white _Monotropa uniflora_ shoots growing in the shade of each clutch. “They look like fungus, or maybe like…wax?”

“Those are ghost pipes,” Ivy said. “Supposedly, you can’t cultivate ’em. Fuck _supposedly_.”

Five picked one and tucked it behind his ear. “What are you going to do with them?”

“Tincture that’s good for migraines and nerve pain,” Ivy went on. “It turns out purple!”

“Nerve pain like you get with scars?” Jerome asked, leaning to study the one Five had picked, adjusting it so the blossom showed more fully.

Ivy thought about that for a few seconds. “I don’t see why not. Wanna be my guinea pigs?”

“I can’t feel pain,” Five reminded her, blushing under Jerome’s scrutiny. “Let Jerome try it.”

“Okie-doke,” Ivy said, checking the spot from which Five had plucked. “I’ll start a waiting list.”

“I’ve got competition, huh?” Jerome asked, kissing Five’s cheek. “Lemme guess. Birdman?”

“Oswald’s leg causes him a lot of grief,” Ivy agreed. “It healed badly. And Ed gets migraines.”

Five extracted himself from Jerome’s embrace in order to study the sunflowers. “Jerome’s third?”

“Nah, they’re all at the top,” Ivy reassured him, pulling her hair back. “There’s nobody else! Fuck, it’s hot. What’s takin’ Harley so long?”

“I, uh, told her to negotiate,” Jerome admitted, hands in his pockets as he strolled up to her.

“With a credit card that’s not in her name,” Ivy sighed, suddenly apprehensive. “Swell.” 

“It’s not in either of our names, either,” Five volunteered, letting a honeybee crawl on his hand.

“Careful, princess. Have you ever been stung?” Jerome asked warily. “You could be allergic.”

“No idea,” Five said, urging the bee back onto the nearest sunflower. “Probably. I haven’t died from anaphylaxis, so…I’m not worried.”

“Well, I _am_ ,” Jerome said, his tone taking on a familiar, strained inflection. “Take it easy.” 

Ivy elbowed him, maybe harder than necessary. “Look, I can cure a sting. Let him explore.”

Five finally joined Ivy and Jerome, moving with the same odd grace she’d first noticed in him.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said earnestly, eyebrows knit in distress. “Just wanted to see.”

“Are you gonna get cozy with the creepy-crawlies we meet on this road trip?” Jerome asked.

Tilting his head, Five cracked a mischievously teasing smile. “You don’t like insects, do you?”

“Duh,” Jerome said, rolling his eyes in Ivy’s direction. “One too many roaches in the caravan growin’ up, one too many in Arkham. So sue me.”

Ivy felt her phone buzz as they started to bicker. She removed it from her skirt pocket.

 _You and the lovebugs had better grab your bags and get out here_ , said Harley’s text.

 _OK_ , Ivy texted back, beckoning for Jerome and Five to follow her. _Lay off the bugs._

 _HAHAHA, forgot,_ Harley replied while they existed the greenhouse. _Jerome hates spiders, too. I had to kill them for him in the bunker._

“Dude, you’ve gotta be kidding,” Ivy said under her breath, watching the boys gather their suitcases and backpacks. _This will be FUN_.

 _Move your asses,_ Harley shot back while they dragged their shit out the front door.

“What…?” Five gasped, dropping his bags on the gravel, staring at what loomed before them.

Watching Jerome’s face as he stared up at the gargantuan black RV was definitely worth it.

“That’s what we call conspicuous, precious,” he said distractedly as Harley descended the stairs and hopped down. “Wowza.”

Harley patted the side of the vehicle. “It’s a 2019! Argued the schmuck down to one-fifty.”

“Like…a hundred and fifty grand?” Ivy asked, tossing her suitcase and Harley’s in the huge baggage compartment as soon as Harley got it open.

“Yup,” Jerome said, doing the same with his luggage and Five’s. “Thor Venetian. If you buy new, those things are two to two-fifty _easy_.”

“Bruce will notice a transaction that big,” Five muttered, tugging at Jerome’s hand. “C’mon.”

While the boys climbed inside and burst out in exclamations of dismay, Ivy smirked at Harley.

“Are you really that extra, or is it Jeremiah’s bad influence?” she asked, twirling her giddily.

“Like you’ve even gotta ask,” Harley said, winking. “Ride shotgun? There's a sawed off one under the seat.”

“There’s a bathroom in this thing, right?” Ivy asked, climbing after her up the stairs. “Whoa, holy _fuck_!”

Harley spun around, poised between the compact dining to their left and the full-size, brushed-chrome fridge to their right. She broke into a grin, showing off the absurd number of cabinets and storage spaces made of dark solid-wood paneling.

“Pretty swank, huh? Oven, range, microwave, kitchen sink…electric fireplace right there under the TV…”

Ivy sat down on the L-shaped sofa and whistled. “This is nicer than the apartment I grew up in.”

Harley flopped down beside her, leaning back. “Yeah, me too. I woulda killed for one of these.”

Ivy leaned forward, peering to their left. “Is that a full-size shower with a place to _sit_ in it?”

Harley nodded, hopping to her feet, beckoning Ivy onward. “Toilet and sink in here,” she said, pulling open the door across from the shower.

“Hey, I don’t hear…” Ivy marched past the bathroom without looking. She yanked open the sliding partition in front of them. “Aw, c’mon!”

Jerome and Five were already sprawled on the huge bed, taking up as much room as possible.

“Dibs,” Five said, lifting his head. “We’ll share the closet and drawer space in here, but—”

“You little shits,” Ivy groused, crossing to close the cabinet that housed a washer and dryer. “Harley picked the damn thing out, so _we_ should get—”

“We paid for it,” Jerome said, gathering Five against his chest, turning the bedroom TV on with a remote. “Besides, there’s a queen up front.”

“I sure as hell didn’t see one,” Ivy said, stumbling as Harley grabbed her wrist and pulled her out.

“Somethin’ tells me you’ll like this,” Harley said, dragging her the whole way up front, making her pause beside the table. She pulled a pin out of the wall on either side of the driver’s and passenger’s seats, flipped open a control box, and turned a key inside it. “Watch.”

The bed stopped descending halfway, probably because Harley had turned the key back to its neutral position. The result was a bunk of sorts, or perhaps more of a loft, cleverly hidden overhead. Whoever had designed the layout was a genius.

“You’ve gotta recline the seats to bring it down as far as it goes,” Harley explained. “There’s linens in the back. Plus, we get a fuckin’ skylight.”

Ivy reached up, testing the give of the mattress. For as insubstantial as it looked, it felt comfortable. Satisfied, she patted it and turned to Harley.

“You did good,” Ivy said, beaming at Harley as she turned the key to raise the bed back up. “We can make the boys wish they brought earplugs.”

“What makes you think we didn’t?” Five called from the back. “Jerome said the walls in these things are thin no matter how expensive the model!”

Ivy followed Harley to the back again, relieved to see that the boys weren’t doing much more than cuddle while they watched a news report. As soon as the anchor started to talk about Wayne Industries, Five grabbed the remote and turned it off.

Harley took the credit card out of her pocket and held it out at arm’s length. “How’d I do, chief?”

Jerome sat up and snatched it. “I asked for an RV, and you brought back a motorhome. I can see why my bro hired you.”

Ivy checked her watch, glancing up at a flash of movement outside. “We had better leave.”

Harley rushed to the front, closed the door, and dove into the driver’s seat. “Cat looks mad!”

Ivy slid into the passenger’s seat, sticking her tongue out at Selina and Bridgit, who’d begun to bang on the door. She scooped the maps Harley had left on the dashboard into her lap, puzzling over why they might need so many.

Harley laid on the horn and revved the engine. She almost clipped the crumbling stone fountain as she pulled them around the circular drive and into the narrow road. Luckily, they’d pass the Van Dahl Estate instead of Wayne Manor.

“We didn’t bring anything to eat!” Five shouted, rushing to the front. Ivy turned just in time to see him sway, lose his footing, and collapse on the sofa as Harley took them fast around a bend. “When will we stop for supplies?”

“Three, four hours,” Jerome said, taking his time getting there to join Five. “Maybe more.”

“Try five or six, suckers,” Harley said with wicked glee. “I ain’t stoppin’ till we hit Pittsburgh!”

“Better make it Steubenville,” Jerome said. “Across the Ohio border. Buch’s Truck Stop.”

“Is there a diner?” Five asked hopefully, leaning on the back of the sofa, staring dreamily out the window. “I’ve heard truck stops have the best pie.”

Ivy turned around in her seat, opening one of the maps. “How the fuck d’you spell any of that?”

“Which part of it?” Harley asked, speeding over the bridge that connected the Palisades to the rest of Gotham. “Steubenville, Buch’s, or pie?”

“Fuck you,” Ivy said, in too good a mood to make it sound vicious. “When should I navigate?”

“Tomorrow,” Harley replied. “We just take I-76 West the whole way to Steubenville. Relax.”

“Can we park this sucker at Buch’s overnight?” Ivy asked, watching Harley shrug. “Jerome?”

“Yeah, as long as we don’t stay past midmorning,” Jerome yawned. “Same rules as trucks.”

“What are the rules for trucks?” Five asked, genuinely curious. “Did you ever drive one?”

“Flattered you’d ask, sweet pea,” Jerome said, “but nah. Mom’s caravan, though? Plenty.”

“So what are the rules?” Five pressed, running the risk of sounding like a pestering kid.

“Park straight, don’t stay late,” Jerome replied. “Buy their shit—food, gas, souvenirs.”

“Lemme guess,” said Ivy, with horrified fascination. “You collect kitschy magnets.”

“What do you take me for?” Harley asked, genuinely miffed. “I’m a shot glasses gal.”

“Better pick up at least a couple for you-know-who,” Jerome said. “Ease the telling-off.”

Ivy felt like pouting. “I haven’t had the chance to figure out what I collect, besides plants.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Five said. “I don’t know what I should collect, either. What about pins?”

“Whatever my baby wants,” said Jerome. “Nana loved her some snow globes. I broke one.”

“They’ve always got, like, preserves and salsa and crap,” Harley said. “Regional specialties.”

“Ooh!” Ivy exclaimed, thrilled. “Sounds like I can keep collecting plants, but in edible form.”

“If we take a detour through the Southwest,” Harley said, “you can pick up some weird cacti.”

“No detours,” Jerome said menacingly. “This is gonna take long enough. Clock’s ticking.”

“I don’t know what I should collect,” Five repeated loudly, changing the subject. “Shirts?”

“That was always my thing growin’ up,” Jerome sighed wistfully. “Forfeited my whole collection when I decided to pick up that axe. I musta had a few dozen. They were cheap in comparison to most other clothes, and I never grew out of ’em as fast.”

“We should get you more,” Five said eagerly. “I’ll find something else. Those state spoons?”

“If you do,” said Jerome, with an ominous hint of laughter, “we’ll never, heh—never run out!”

“Jeez, would ya cut the racket!” Harley griped, turning on the radio. She cranked it full-blast.

“That’s too loud!” Five shouted. “What kind of station is this? Did anyone bring any CDs?”

Ivy leaned heavily against the window, wondering if she ought to have suggested flying.

“Don’t you go tunin’ out on me,” Harley said, taking one hand off the wheel to pat Ivy’s shoulder. “I’ll need you to stay alert.”

“Alert so you don’t have to?” Ivy challenged, brushing her lapful of maps on the floor.

“Princess, sit down,” Jerome was saying, with a faint note of concern. “You’re tired.”

“I don’t like this song,” Five muttered under his breath. “I’m not going to like any songs on this fucking station. Was it like this when…”

Ivy decided that staying alert on Harley’s behalf was her best bet after all, so she kicked the volume up another notch. She glanced up at the rearview mirror, satisfied to catch sight of Jerome hauling a cranky, belligerent Five bodily back to the bedroom.

“Babe, I dunno about those two,” Harley sighed, turning the volume back down. “We better keep a close eye out while we’re still in civilization.”

Ivy slumped in her seat. “Maybe we shoulda let Selina and Bridgit tag along after all.”

“Number one, where would they have slept?” Harley asked. “Number two, how confident would you have been in your ability to prevent them from offin’ one or both of the boys before we reached our destination?”

“See, this is what I was sayin’ about grudges,” Ivy pointed out. “Nobody holds one like either of those two. It’s why they’re such a good match.”

“Match is right!” Harley cackled. “Regular little arsonists back in the day, those two, huh?”

“Selina wouldn’t have done some of that shit if Bridgit hadn’t talked her into it,” Ivy said.

“Yeah, but how much of the shit we’ve done—shit we’re doin’—is on account of l-o-v-e?”

“Same amount of shit as with the boys. Granted, I bet Bruce and Jeremiah are the worst.”

Harley whistled. “Listen, Brucie’s mom and pop were no saints. He didn’t fall too far.”

“D’you ever wonder what’s wrong with us?” Ivy asked. “How an entire city gets like this?”

“God only knows what’s in the river, for starters,” Harley teased. “Ain’t no gettin’ that out.”

“Are you insinuating that I raise bad plants?” Ivy scoffed, punching her shoulder.

“Nah,” Harley replied. “I’m straight up pointing it out. Whatcha gonna do?”

“Put something really terrible in your coffee tomorrow,” Ivy told her, grinning.


	5. Road Trip Bingo

Jerome woke to the sound of his phone vibrating on the ledge alongside the bed. Hesitant to open his eyes, he was sure he hadn’t set any alarms. He took a few seconds to gauge whether they were moving or not, and then remembered that they’d stopped for the night.

Next to him, Five sighed in exasperation. “It’s Bruce or your brother. Don’t answer.”

Jerome reached across Five, fumbling the phone into his hand. Trying his best not to register the caller’s name, he declined the call, checked the time, and made a show of dropping his phone on the floor. Bruce was such a busybody.

“Was it them?” Five asked, nuzzling Jerome’s chest, tucking his head under Jerome’s chin.

“Spam call,” Jerome lied, stroking Five’s sleep-tangled hair. “It’s like six. Go back to sleep.”

Five pressed his lips against Jerome’s collarbone, the sudden flex of them suggesting a smile.

“Does this remind you of traveling when you were younger?” he asked. “The, um, fun parts?”

“Havin’ somebody in my bed’s kinda different,” Jerome admitted. “Never had the chance.”

Five stretched, rolled onto his back, and tucked his arms behind his head. “Did you want that?”

“Told myself I did,” Jerome sighed, tracing along Five’s jaw, “but…I was relieved I didn’t.”

Turning his head, Five kissed the tip of Jerome’s finger, and then caught it between his teeth.

“I _hope_ you want me here,” he teased, “because I’m not going up front with the girls.”

Jerome tapped Five’s nose. “Now you’re here, it _is_ fun. Think the girls are awake?”

Five shrugged, catching Jerome’s hand between his own. “If they are, I can’t hear them.”

“Good,” Jerome said, lowering his voice. “We’ve gotta start breakin’ in this mattress.”

Kissing Jerome’s palm, Five gazed up at him, endearingly earnest. “Only if you want.”

“Of course I wanna,” Jerome insisted, kissing Five’s cheek. “You deserve a nice trip.”

Five huffed, angling Jerome’s head so he could kiss him on the lips. “It’s nice already.”

“Yeah, but if we don’t, like—” Jerome pulled a mock frown “—play Road Trip Sex Bingo—”

“That’s not a thing,” Five protested weakly, but his eyes were bright with curiosity. “Is it?”

“Road Trip Bingo is a thing,” Jerome replied, winking at him. “All I did was add a word.”

“That means we’d be making it up as we go along,” Five protested. “I’m bad at games.”

“You’re good at sex, though,” Jerome said, rolling onto his back, hauling Five with him. “Better than me.”

Five squirmed out of the t-shirt he’d worn to bed, which was one of Jerome’s. He hadn’t put on anything else before they got in bed the night before, which was scandalously alluring given they weren’t alone.

“Who cares?” Five asked, running one hand over Jerome’s bare chest. “We both suck by everybody else’s standards.” He trailed his touch down to the front of Jerome’s smiley-face boxers, biting his lip as he slipped two fingers through the slit. “You’re almost...”

“Keep that up, darlin’, and I’ll be more than _almost_ ,” Jerome sighed, spreading his thighs as Five worked his entire hand inside. “Pretty little tease.”

“So?” Five whispered, breathing warmly against Jerome’s ear while he started to stroke him. “You like it.”

Jerome shivered, trying not to move around too much, letting Five set the pace. “Uh, _yeah_.”

Five rubbed his thumb in slick circles beneath the head of Jerome’s cock. “You’re wet.”

Jerome huffed out a shaky laugh. “That get you all hot, precious?”

Five nodded without hesitation, withdrawing his hand from Jerome’s underwear. He touched himself instead, whimpering as he shifted his hips.

Unable to do anything but stare, Jerome set his hands on Five’s hips and maneuvered him. Getting Five to straddle his chest this high up was tricky, but he finally got the gist and settled, still working his cock with a visibly trembling hand.

“Does this get _you_ all hot?” Five asked shakily, pausing when he realized why Jerome had positioned him like this. He lifted up slightly, tongue darting between his lips, and angled his hips. “Do you want me to try…um…”

“This is about as close as we can get to you sitting on my face,” Jerome said, feeling his cheeks heat just to say it. He froze at the sound of voices up front, realizing he was just as desperately aroused as Five. “If…you don’t wanna keep going…”

Five guided the head of his cock to Jerome’s parted lips, panting harshly. “Do you?”

Jerome hoped that the fact he’d begun to enthusiastically suck was answer enough.

Five gasped, bracing himself with both hands against the headboard. “ _Jerome_.”

Jerome struggled to nod, managing a strangled laugh around Five’s tight thrusts.

“You guys better hold onto your butts, whatever the _fuck_ you’re doin’ back there!” Harley shouted. “We’re pullin’ out and hittin’ the road!”

Jerome grasped the back of Five’s thigh, not about to stop in spite of Harley’s blatant jab. He shoved his free hand inside his boxers, groaning around Five. He didn’t touch himself often, but it felt amazing under the circumstances.

“Shit,” Five hissed as the RV lurched out of park and into motion. “Am I gonna hurt—”

Jerome gagged slightly, drawing as much of a breath as he could. “Nuh,” he mumbled.

“Okay,” Five whispered, closing his eyes as he choked back a cry. “Okay, fuck, _okay_ —”

Easing Five’s cock out of his mouth, Jerome licked his lips. “Slight change of plans,” he said, delivering the twisting, demanding strokes he knew Five liked. “How ’bout you come like this instead, princess?”

Five jerked forward, lowering his head. He bit the inside of his wrist, panting like he might if he could feel pain, spilling over Jerome’s lips and chin.

Entranced, Jerome tried to watch every change of expression over Five’s face, his hand on himself faltering. He didn’t deserve such a lovely sight.

After a few seconds, Five caught his breath. He shifted down Jerome’s body, pulling Jerome’s hand out of his boxers as he settled between Jerome’s ankles. He tugged Jerome’s boxers down, got them the whole way off him, and then buried his face against Jerome’s belly.

Jerome closed his eyes, dizzily taking every last detail in. There was the weightlessness of forward motion, intensified by Five’s breath against his heated skin. Just knowing he might never get to have this again filled him with dread.

“You’re so, so close,” Five mumbled, licking the tip of him feverishly. “I can feel it.”

Jerome scrabbled for a pillow. Stifling a moan, he pulled it over his face and came.

Five let him have the pillow until his heartbeat began to slow, but pulled it away when he realized Jerome’s breathing hadn’t gone back to normal. He looked so gutted when he realized Jerome was near tears that Jerome felt guilty.

“What’s wrong?” Five asked, making quick work of cleaning him with tissues from the ledge.

“Any time we do this could be the last,” Jerome managed, hating how harsh his voice sounded.

“You think I don’t know?” Five asked, tossing the tissues aside. “That’s why we make it count.”

Jerome did his best to regain some semblance of composure while Five kissed his closed eyelids.

“Feel free to veto, but I’d rest easier if we had—” he took a breath “—some kinda contingency.”

“In case of... _ah_ ,” Five said patiently, settling beside him. “In case I get worse.”

Jerome stared at the ceiling. “I feel like an asshole for even bringin’ the issue up.”

Five rested his head against Jerome’s shoulder, reaching up to stroke Jerome’s hair.

“You don’t want to be alive if I’m not, just like I don’t want to be if you’re not.”

Jerome nodded, relieved. “That’s about the shape of it, yup. Call me a romantic.”

Five shrugged. “We both are. Let’s decide what to do if my condition deteriorates.”

“I feel like that oughta be your call, sweet pea,” Jerome sighed. “Say the word”

Five kissed his collarbone. “We brought pistols. Harley said she has a shotgun.”

Jerome shuddered. He’d never taken a bullet, and he didn’t want to, either.

“If you bleed out, there’s enough knives for me to make sure I bleed out, too.”

Five had gone incredibly quiet and still. “We’ll be on the Pacific Ocean, right?”

Jerome had an inkling of where this might be going. The thought calmed him.

“I could think of worse ways to go than drowning. Especially with you.”

“It’d save Harley and Ivy the trouble of dealing with our bodies,” Five said.

Jerome glanced sidelong at Five, offering his little finger. “Pinkie swear?”

Five hooked his little finger tight around Jerome’s, solemnly shaking on it.

“Hey, lazy butts!” Ivy shouted from the other side of the partition. “Coffee?”

“I don’t like it, remember?” Five shouted back, endearingly prickly. “Tea!”

“Sure,” Jerome agreed, hoping he didn’t sound bleary. “Black, unsweetened.”

“Sheesh, you’re cranky for havin’ just...” Ivy trailed off, retreating kitchen-ward.

Five furrowed his brow. “Do people think sex just...erases other emotions?”

“For some folks, I guess it does,” Jerome said, helping Five sit up. “Not us.”

Five shook his head in adamant agreement, wobbling as he climbed out of bed.

“It knocked off two bingo squares, though,” he said with a self-satisfied laugh. “Maybe even three.”

Jerome noticed the trickle from Five’s nostrils while they were rummaging robes and pajama bottoms out of the drawers. That meant steering him to the shower, both of them still naked, which didn’t rattle Ivy. She didn’t spare them a glance as she worked.

Once they were out, properly dressed, and seated on one side of the tiny table, Ivy set steaming mugs in front of them. Five started to sip his right away, staring out the window at passing vehicles far below them.

“You look like you’ve got questions,” Ivy said wryly, sliding into the opposite booth-style seat.

“I thought you were an only child, at least before…” Jerome took a gulp of coffee. “Privacy?”

“D’you think there’s any when you grow up on the streets?” asked Ivy, without any sarcasm.

“No more than there is when you grow up in the circus,” Jerome replied. “That’s rough, buddy.”

Ivy’s face lit up as she clapped her hands. “Ooh, are we playing car games? Name the quote?”

Jerome narrowed his eyes, puzzled. “Uh, if you want, but—you mean to tell me that’s a quote?”

“Zuko,” Five murmured, resting his cheek against the glass. “ _Avatar: The Last Airbender_.”

Ivy clapped again. “When the hell did you even watch? I thought there was no TV in the lab.”

Five turned his head enough to look her in the eyes. “Foxglove staff brought laptops to work.”

“Yo, nerds!” Harley called from the wheel. “Anybody mind bringin’ the driver a cuppa joe?” 

Jerome kissed Five’s cheek, and then got to his feet with his own barely-touched mug in hand. Miraculously, he didn’t spill any on his way to the empty passenger seat—or when he flopped down in it.

“Here ya go,” Jerome said, handing the mug off to her. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

“How selfless,” Harley retorted, taking several swigs. “While you’re here, can we talk a sec?”

Jerome shrugged, stealing the mug. He took another gulp and handed it back. “Sure, why not.”

“Ivy can’t read maps worth a goddamn,” Harley said between gritted teeth. “Navigate for me.”

“How fast you wanna get us there?” Jerome asked, grabbing several off the dash. “Obviously, I—”

“Wanna save your sweetheart’s life, yeah, I got that,” Harley sighed. “Four days, we’ll need to do this in shifts. Neither of our other halves can drive.”

“I wouldn’t recommend less than a week,” Jerome replied. “We’ll burn out quick otherwise.”

“True,” Harley agreed. “I’m also new handlin’ this thing. Don’t wanna push the speed limit.”

“Now we have that out of the way,” Jerome said, tossing the maps aside, “what’s this about?”

“Got a plan for if shit hits the fan?” Harley asked. “I love your dumb ass, but I ain’t haulin’—”

“You wouldn’t be bringing us back, I can tell you that,” Jerome replied curtly. “So, yeah, plan.”

“ _Us_?” Harley echoed, taking her eyes off the road to stare at him. “Wanna unpack that?”

Jerome reached over, turning her face back toward the windshield. “If Five goes, I go. Happy?”

“Nope,” Harley said. “I didn’t help get you outta Arkham just to let you make a suicide pact.”

“Jeez, keep it down,” Jerome hissed, glancing furtively over his shoulder. Fortunately, Ivy and Five had migrated to the sofa, where it sounded like were making each other guess more movie and TV quotes. “It’s not a suicide pact. I’d only stay behind if…y’know.”

Harley fussed with a loose strand of hair hanging down from one of the messy buns on her head.

“Unsatisfactory. I hope you can understand my professional obligation to you as my patient.”

Jerome rolled his eyes. “Even on this trip, you don’t monitor our behavior twenty-four-seven.”

“The proximity alone makes me accountable,” Harley shot back. “Just ’cause there’s no official paperwork doesn’t mean I don’t take this seriously.”

“What are you gonna do?” Jerome challenged. “Insist we have a session right here, right now?”

“You bet,” Harley told him. “You think it’s all Romeo and Juliet, but ideation’s still ideation.”

“I know,” Jerome said, “but it’s not just me. Why aren’t you askin’ Five to come up here?”

“Don’t project. Five’s situation is different. He might _actually_ be dyin’, remember?”

“Way to rub it in, Doc,” Jerome said bitterly. “Tell me, what if our situations were reversed?”

Harley burst out laughing and didn’t stop for a whole minute. “What, if you were _my_ therapist?”

“No,” Jerome countered. “If Ivy was the one racin’ the clock. Would you stay or would you go?”

“I don’t wanna die anymore,” Harley said. “I fuckin’ told you that when you were locked up.”

Jerome tried to wrap his mind around the implications. “You’d try to go on even without her?”

“I mean, it would hurt,” Harley replied. “I’m not tryin’ to suggest it wouldn’t be hell on earth.”

“Uh, I already lived through that,” Jerome reminded her. “Repeatedly. This would be worse.”

Harley thumped the steering wheel. “You’re one stubborn fucker, you know that? J was right.”

“Isn’t he always,” Jerome said smugly, folding his arms across his chest. “You missed the exit.”

“What the actual fuck?” Harley demanded. “You’re supposed to be my navigator, remember?”

“Stop it with the psychoanalysis, and I’ll start bein’ your sat-nav,” Jerome offered haughtily.

“We aren’t done discussin’ this,” Harley warned, “but it’s a start. Now, get us back on track.”

“If we’re goin’ via Chicago, let’s stop in Akron for brunch,” Jerome said. “Two hours away.”

They turned up the radio once the inane chatter behind them got to be a bit much. Five came up to complain a few times, changing the station on his third go. When Harley tried to change it back, Jerome smacked her hand away from the console.

The truck stop outside of Akron wasn’t one Jerome was familiar with, but the breakfast sandwiches looked passable. He brought two back to the RV, one for himself and one for Five, while the girls lingered inside and argued over candy, Skittles versus Red Hots.

“Here ya go, princess,” Jerome said, sitting down on the side of the bed. “You’ll feel better.”

Five sat up, rummaging curiously through the plastic bag. Rather than go for one of the sandwiches, or even one of the bottles of Mexican Coke, he held up the bag of Claey’s Lemon Drops and the box of Rocket Pops.

“Weird choices,” Five said, tearing open the lemon drops anyway. “Are they your favorite?”

“The ice pops,” Jerome said, opening the foil on one of the sandwiches, offering it. “Eat.”

Stubbornly, Five shoved a couple of lemon drops in his mouth instead. “Then why these?”

“They’re in a song Nana used to sing when I was little,” Jerome admitted, taking the bag.

Five grabbed the sandwich, crunching the candies. He swallowed, and then took a messy bite.

“Better put those in the freezer,” he said, pointing to the Rocket Pops, scrolling on his phone.

Jerome did as he was told, wondering if he ought to read anything into Five’s brusqueness. It was probably because of the nosebleed. He came back, flopped down next to Five, and peeled open the second sandwich.

“Somewhere over the rainbow?” Five said, his mouth full. His sandwich was already half gone.

Jerome stopped mid-attempt at taking a bite of his own. “How did you—never mind. Yeah.”

Five shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. “Google. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Don’t choke,” Jerome chided, brushing the crumbs from Five’s chin. “What if I wanna?”

“Choke?” Five asked. “You should’ve asked earlier this morning, I would’ve been more—”

“Talk about it,” Jerome sighed, pulling Five against his chest. “D’you have questions?”

Five shook his head, making Jerome take another bite of his sandwich. “We could listen.”

Chewing, Jerome listened to the girls’ ongoing obnoxious bickering as they returned.

“Red Bull’s disgusting!” Ivy protested, yanking open the fridge. “Everything in it is fake!”

“Oh, like that iced hibiscus herb tea or whatever the fuck isn’t loaded with preservatives?”

“Way less than your shit! You already drank, like, three or four cans last night. It’s gross.”

“If you’re joinin’ me up front,” Harley said, “you’d better ask Siri how we get to Chicago.”

“Whatever,” Ivy grumbled, slamming the fridge shut again. “Only because Jerome’s busy.”

“Know what?” Jerome said, grabbing Five’s phone, opening his music app. “Great idea.”

Five snuggled against Jerome’s chest, closing his eyes as the song began. “I’m sorry.”

Jerome finished off his sandwich, playing with Five’s messy braid. “Why, precious?”

“I insulted your candy,” Five whispered pitifully, hiding his face. “I didn’t mean to.”

Jerome kissed the top of Five’s head. “ _Shhh_ ,” he soothed. “Listen to Dorothy.”

“No, it’s just…” Five was quiet for a few seconds, waiting for a pause between words. “I really don’t like that I did that. It was rude.”

“Nobody said you had to be Miss Manners ’round the clock,” Jerome sighed, petting Five’s hair.

“That’s just it,” Five replied, pausing again to listen for a few bars. “Literally everybody did.”

Jerome thought about that for a few seconds, tossing the sandwich wrapper as Harley started the engine. He hoped that being back in motion would lull Five to sleep, because his peevishness was off the charts. Usually, rest was the best remedy.

“D’you mean Strange and his cronies?” Jerome finally asked. “Sure you don’t want me to hunt down and kill anybody that’s left?”

“Strange, Peabody, the orderlies…” Five hummed a little now that he had the melody down. “Kathryn, the Court. Alfred and Bruce.”

“Maybe don’t volunteer it so much to folks who don’t deserve it,” Jerome said, rubbing his back.

“I’d like to think Jeri deserved it,” Five murmured. “She did nothing to show us that she didn’t.”

“We oughta bring her somethin’ back from this trip,” Jerome said. “I didn’t think to tell her we were goin’ out of town. Or even that you…”

Five stiffened, his exhalation pained. “We should have called,” he said. “After the pool party.”

Jerome snatched up Five’s phone, pausing the song. “We can call her now if you really want.”

“Do you think it would be worth doing that?” Five asked. “Worrying her. She can’t help.”

“Up to you,” Jerome said, shrugging, reticent in his own right. “She helped us a lot already.”

Five groaned, pulling a pillow over his head. “She wouldn’t…come after us or report us to Bruce and your brother, would she?”

“Report us? Nah,” Jerome replied, pulling the pillow away from Five’s face. “Come after us? Who knows. She’s crazy, remember?”

Five actually laughed at that, the sound a strange relief. “I wonder if Jeri has ever traveled.”

“Worldly-wise lady like her? I betcha,” Jerome said. “Strikes me as the self-educated type.”

Five took his phone from Jerome, opened a browser, and typed in _Celestial Garden_.

“If I stop talking, just...take over for me? Sometimes I can’t think of what to say."

Jerome pried the phone out of Five’s hand and set it aside. “Tomorrow, precious.”


	6. Subtle As a Sledgehammer

Between Steubenville and Akron that morning, Five had caught snippets of Harley’s conversation with Jerome. Even though listening to the film’s most iconic song had led to Jerome suggesting that they watch _The Wizard of Oz_ , Jerome’s demeanor had remained subdued.

While Jerome fell asleep during the ending credits, Five listened to the girls’ distant bickering and wondered if he ought to confront Harley. As their ad hoc therapist, he knew that she meant well. However, she could be confrontational to a truly draining degree.

Five was disappointed that, on reaching Chicago just past dusk, they wouldn’t be staying long enough to do more than spend the night in a Walmart parking lot. Maybe they’d take the time to go see Lake Michigan at dawn. That said, as Harley killed the engine and Ivy loudly started to ask everyone what they should have for dinner, Five realized he had an embarrassing confession to make.

“Huh?” Jerome gasped, starting awake as Five murmured it in his ear. “Wait—are you serious?”

“It’s not my fault!” Five replied grumpily, rolling so that his back was turned to Jerome. “It’s not like there’s one anywhere in central Gotham.”

“You’ve really never been outside the city till now, have you?” Jerome asked, cajoling him with kisses against his shoulder. “Or outside New Jersey?”

Five shook his head. “If I was taken anywhere before Strange gave me amnesia, I don’t know.”

“Hey, Ivy!” Jerome shouted. “We oughta stock up while we’re here, maybe cook something nice tonight! Five’s never been to Walmart!”

The partition opened, and Ivy peered in at them. “You mean terrorize the normies? Hell yeah.”

Harley marched back from the driver’s seat, out of breath. “Jerome, you’ll get stares just like in Ohio. Not like folks can do squat, but…”

“I wasn’t with him at the gas station,” Five said, sweeping his hair back. “Let’s see them try.”

“We’re not killin’ anybody unless we have no choice,” Ivy cautioned, side-eyeing Jerome. “Although, if I’ve gotta talk to the plants—”

“We’re not doin’ that, either,” Harley interjected, strangely hasty, grabbing Ivy’s wrist. “C’mon, Red. Move it. Let’s get this expedition over with.”

“Not doing what?” Five whispered derisively as Jerome came around the bed and pulled him to his feet. “Buying hanging baskets for the RV?”

Jerome snickered, tugging Five after him so they could catch up. “Bet you’re right, precious.”

Five was glad he’d decided on tight-fitting jeans and his bleach-stained black tee that day, because the addition of his oxblood Docs made the ensemble look tough. The middle-aged woman greeting customers as the four of them walked in looked like she wanted to say something, but Five’s glare and Harley’s manic smile were enough to keep her quiet.

“I was in one of these superstores few times as a kid,” Ivy said, scowling at a display of cold-damaged flowers. “Same old, same old, it looks like.”

“We shouldn’t split up,” said Five, watching her absently brush one of the orchids’ leaves. “Stocking up on real food should be a group decision.”

“Says the biggest Pop-Tart fiend here?” Harley scoffed. “Oh, excuse me. Second biggest.”

Jerome saluted her with his free hand. “Hey, you were eatin ’em happily enough at our place.”

“Yeah, _and_ at home,” Ivy said impatiently, “but Five has a point. We can’t live on junk the whole trip, and everyone knows I love junk.”

“We have a freezer, fridge, and cupboards out the wazoo,” Harley sighed. “I say go nuts.”

“Cashews!” Ivy gushed. “No, wait, pistachios. Anybody got an allergy? I sure hope not!”

“Nuts are junk, last time I checked,” Jerome warned with false severity, winking at Five.

Five bit the inside of his cheek, barely keeping a straight face. “Not if you know how to—”

“If you say _use them_ , I’m gonna send you back outside,” Harley snapped testily.

“Bake with them,” Ivy said, grabbing a nearby cart. “That’s the only right answer. Duh.”

Harley looked fit to burst when Ivy and Five led the charge on raiding the nut aisle—and it really was an entire aisle. Jerome wanted honey-roasted everything, which surprised Five. Otherwise, he agreed with Ivy on salted cashews. 

Grudgingly, Harley admitted she liked walnuts and macademias, so those went in the cart, too.

Five dragged them into the nearly deserted household appliances section when he spotted an assortment of electric kettles. He picked up a pale blue Russell Hobbs model with a retro temperature gauge, showing it off to the others.

“You have that in black at the penthouse, doncha?” Ivy asked. “We’ve got enough plug outlets.”

“There’s a perfectly good microwave,” Harley griped. “You used it today for tea and coffee.”

“The water tasted funny,” Five complained, setting the display model back down. “I want—”

Jerome took what looked like the last boxed one off the shelf. “This one’s white, princess.”

“I don’t care,” Five replied, taking it from him, setting it in the cart. “As long as it works.”

Over the next hour, the cart continued to fill with everything from milk to flank steak to boxes of sugary cereal. Ivy put her foot down, grabbing several bags of fruit—apples, peaches, and clementines. Harley insisted on vegetables and A.1. Sauce to go with the steak.

Five got hung up on a bunch of weird potato chip flavors, Baconator Pringles above all. Jerome said the abominations could only stay if they got some BBQ ones, too. Harley and Ivy each grabbed a can of plain ones, shocked to discover they agreed on something savory.

Jerome raided the outdoors section, claiming that a tent was necessary for any nights they ended up at a campground. The unspoken reasoning was that they or the girls might want to escape the RV for a night if having to put up with each other’s noise got to be unbearable.

Detouring through the toys and games resulted in several packs of cards, Cards Against Humanity, and Yahtzee getting tossed in the cart, too. Jerome was excited about the latter, which made Five wonder if he and Jeremiah used to play it.

At checkout, Five was impressed with the cashier’s chill. The fact that their total was over four hundred dollars was what made the guy blink—and then pretend he wasn’t totally going to pocket the receipt with Jerome’s version of Bruce’s signature.

“Dude’s gonna call the cops,” Harley muttered as soon as they were back inside the RV.

“You’ve been paranoid all day,” Ivy griped, pulling open the refrigerator. “Knock it off.”

“Why?” Five asked, helping Ivy unpack their shopping bags. “We didn’t steal anything.”

“Forgery,” Jerome replied, looking over the tent’s assembly instructions. “I doubt it, though.”

“Put that thing away,” Harley said, smacking the leaflet out of his hand. “You owe me steak.”

Five hadn’t had the chance to brag about Jerome’s startling culinary competence, so it was satisfying to watch the girls’ reactions to his prep and execution. Even Ivy, a vegetarian, acknowledged that he seemed to know what he was doing. They’d picked up some frozen veggie dumplings for her, which Five took charge of using the microwave.

Jerome seemed annoyed about having to cook the broccoli in a separate skillet, so Five took care of that, too. It was weird having such limited workspace, but they pulled it off with more patience than the girls would have done.

Harley opening a bottle of red wine to go with dinner didn’t seem to offend Jerome. Five was glad, because he was about as ready for a drink as she was. As far as he knew, it wouldn’t have a negative effect on his symptoms.

Once they’d eaten, the girls shooed them off to the bedroom, insisting they’d do the dishes.

“I could get used to this,” Five said quietly, lounging next to Jerome on the wrinkled sheets.

“Is that so, sweet pea?” Jerome asked, sounding pleasantly drowsy as he stroked Five’s hair.

Five nodded, tracing Jerome’s scars lightly with his fingertips. “If…when this is over, we could stay on the road, maybe. Just the two of us.”

Instead of citing all the reasons why they probably wouldn’t be able to, Jerome grinned at him.

“If we could go anywhere,” he said, “where _would_ you wanna go? I’ve seen it all, but…I wouldn’t mind seein’ it all again with you.”

Five yawned, bumping his nose against Jerome’s cheek. “Las Vegas, for the spectacle. New England, for the leaves. Beaches, for…”

Jerome smirked, opening his eyes a fraction. “For gettin’ me to go skinnydipping, is that it?”

“For shells!” Five grumbled, but he couldn’t help smiling. “Although…I wouldn’t say no.”

“You’ve gotta be the best swimmer I’ve ever seen,” Jerome sighed. “Better than my bro.”

Five shook his head pensively. “I have no idea why I can do that, or how they taught me.”

“Like with the fightin’ stuff, huh?” Jerome said, running his palm along Five’s jawline.

Five shrugged, leaning into the touch. “I guess they had ways of programming people.”

Jerome touched the scar on Five’s forehead, above his right eyebrow. “Saw that on somebody else one time. He got programmed, kinda.”

“Strange had techniques I can’t grasp,” Five murmured, yawning again. “So did the Court.”

“You sound as tired as I am,” Jerome said, turning off the lamp. “Wanna sleep, precious?”

“Yeah,” Five whispered, cuddling close as Jerome tugged the covers over them. “Jerome?”

“Right here, princess,” Jerome whispered back, kissing Five’s cheek. “What d’you need?”

“Nothing,” Five replied, nuzzling Jerome’s shoulder as his eyelids grew heavy. “Love you.”

Jerome held him tighter in response, which meant more than words ever had or ever would.

When Five regained consciousness, the RV was in motion, moving at a speed indicative of the highway. He sat up, blinking at the hot, bright light streaming through the windows, realizing he was alone.

“Jerome?” Five said aloud, rubbing his eyes, and then raised his voice. “Jerome! Where…”

The words died on Five’s tongue as Harley opened the partition and peered in, concerned.

“You okay? We decided to get an early start. Jerome’s at the wheel. You were _zonked_.”

“Where’s Ivy?” Five asked, grabbing his pajama pants from the ledge, muddling into them.

“Up front playin’ navigator, which we both know is a joke,” Harley sighed. “She an’ Jerome are yakkin’ each other’s ears off. I needed a break.”

Five half-smiled at her, straightening his t-shirt. “From driving, or from the constant chatter?”

“Both,” Harley replied, opening the partition a fraction wider. “C’mon, let’s eat breakfast.”

“Do Jerome and Ivy need food?” Five asked, wobbling as he attempted to find his footing.

“Wait, that’s a bad idea,” Harley said, holding up a hand. “Back in bed. What d’you want?”

Five sat back down on the edge of the bed, hating that he knew what his dizziness meant.

“Tea, I don’t...care which,” he said, scrabbling for the tissues, pressing one to his nose.

Harley couldn’t hide her pained expression. “You’ve gotta eat somethin’, too, buster.”

“I don’t like that nickname,” Five told her, muffled as he pinched his nose. “Banana.”

“Right, so you can slip me on the peel,” Harley sighed, turning to go. “I’d deserve it.”

By the time Harley came in with a mini-tray from one of the cabinets, Five had gotten his nosebleed under control. She sat down beside him on the mattress, leaving enough space between them for the tray.

“I’m not mad,” Five reassured her, picking up the mug with Earl Grey in it. “Also, thanks.”

Harley shrugged, picking up the other mug, which had coffee in it. She sipped it awkwardly.

“I dunno what to call you, aside from your name,” she admitted. “I feel like your big sister or somethin’. Like J’s and Jerome’s, too, in fact.”

Five realized he had a unique opportunity on his hands. He’d been itching to confront her.

“I know what you got Jerome to talk about yesterday. I doubt that it did what you think.”

“I don’t think anything,” Harley asserted, “except that you guys have got shit to live for.”

“You think we shouldn’t have the right to decide what happens to our lives,” Five said.

Harley picked up the banana, aggressively peeling it. “My baggage kinda interfered.”

Five tilted his head, searching her intent features as she worked. “Did you try to…die?”

“One time, yep,” Harley said, handing him the banana. She pointed to the nasty scar on her neck, down and back from her left ear. “See?”

Five nodded, taking a contemplative bite. “Do you think people like me not wanting to suffer is wrong, like if…if things get really bad?”

“Nah, I totally understand that,” Harley said, slurping more coffee. “I support right to die laws.”

“You don’t think Jerome would have the right if I decided to,” Five concluded, mouth still full.

Harley huffed into her mug. “You really haven’t considered how that shit would affect J, huh?”

Five hadn’t thought about Jeremiah’s feelings on the matter. “I guess…no, I haven’t. Sorry.”

“We moved heaven an’ earth—probably a piece of hell, too—makin’ sure Jerome wasn’t gonna rot in Arkham. We did illegal shit, sweetie.”

Five set the unfinished banana back on the tray, eyes downcast. “Everyone on this trip has.”

“Yeah, but you’ve gotta understand—J had no record. Sure, he’s no angel, but he took a risk.”

Glancing back up at her, Five hardened his gaze. “I’ve done worse things. So has Jerome.”

“Ain’t no contest, pumpkin,” Harley cooed, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Killin’ a cab driver who messed with ya? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Would you have done any different?” Five asked, oddly okay with her reaching for his brush.

“Hell no, I woulda put a bullet in the scumbag’s head without losin’ sleep,” Harley said, shifting the tray aside, maneuvering him so he sat with his back to her. “When I say there’s no contest, I mean J poisoned some dude who beat Jerome when they were _nine_.”

“Was it hard to find the guy in order to get revenge?” Five asked, impressed. “Did you help?”

“Holy fuck, did you miss the point,” Harley said, brushing out Five’s hair. “J didn’t wait till he was a grown-ass man to poison this guy, we’re talkin’ he dumped an OD of his mom’s opiates into the guy’s beer while he an’ Lila were passed out drunk. Seems that piss was so bitter he didn’t even know what he was finishin’ off when he woke up. Somebody found him dead in his own place a few days later.”

Five chewed his lip. “That must be what Jerome meant when he said Jeremiah got around to doing bad shit before he did.”

“Jerome didn’t tell you the deets?” Harley asked. “Well, I’ll be damned. I know somethin’ about his childhood that you don’t.”

“You know a lot of things about his childhood that I don’t, because you’ve been talking to his brother for years,” Five said irritably, although he wasn’t about to tell her to stop braiding his hair. “But…you probably don’t know the stuff that happened after Jeremiah left the circus.”

“True, that,” Harley agreed, tugging on the strands of his hair until he straightened his head.

“I didn’t…” Five sighed, staring sidelong out the window. “Didn’t mean to be rude about this.”

Harley chuckled. “You’re either polite to a fault or rude AF. Not much in-between with you.”

“AF?” Five asked, perplexed, realizing she was holding out her hand for his elastic. He pulled it off his wrist and handed it to her.

“As fuck,” Harley said, banding his braid off with ease. “Has the internet taught you nothin’?”

“I haven’t spent a lot of time there, except to search things and read,” Five admitted, ashamed.

“You’d fit in on reddit, what with that blunt snark of yours,” Harley said, patting his shoulder.

Five turned, inquisitive. “There are so many forums. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Jeez, don’t ever let J hear you talk like that,” Harley said. “They’re called subreddits.”

Widening his eyes, Five feigned innocence in her direction. “Jeremiah’s on subreddits?”

“Jeremiah’s all _over_ reddit,” Harley yawned, finishing off her coffee. “I used to be.”

“I’ll check it out,” Five said, already planning to mess with both of them for Jerome’s sake.

“Subtle as a sledgehammer,” Harley replied, rising with the tray. “Let’s go, Miss Thing.”

“At least tell me his handle!” Five protested, jogging after her, barefoot. “Uh—username?”

“Are we talkin’ about my bro’s unfortunate online proclivities?” Jerome called back to them.

“Says the guy who’s thinkin’ about starting his own YouTube Channel,” Ivy teased gleefully.

“Hey, I told you that in confidence,” Jerome said bitterly. “I wanna be like the plant guy.”

“Nobody’s like him,” Ivy replied. “You’ve gotta think of an original angle. Do ASMR.”

“ASMR hasn’t been original since 2013, babe,” Harley told her. “How ’bout YTPs?”

“Do you understand this stuff, sweet pea?” Jerome asked. “G’morning, by the way.”

“Some of it,” Five said, making his way up front. “Keep your eyes on the road,” he added, setting a hand on Jerome’s shoulder, peering at the map in Ivy’s lap. “I know it’s not relevant until tonight, but where are we going to stop this time?”

“I was thinkin’ Nebraska somewhere,” said Jerome. “Pit stops in Iowa, but…yeah.”

“There’s a campground near Indian Cave that takes RVs,” Ivy said. “I looked it up.”

“Should we stay put for a couple days?” Harley ventured, clearly testing the water.

Jerome shrugged. “As long as you’re fine with us courting danger,” he told her.

“I could have a look at the local flora,” Ivy said. “See if I can get a head start.”

“But you said the thing you need is in Oregon and Washington?” Five asked.

“The _main_ thing I need,” Ivy reminded him. “If I can gather more stuff, great.”

Five reached past her and Jerome, changing the radio station before they could protest.

“Just for an hour,” he begged, flipping stations until he found an alt-rock station playing a song he recognized. “Everyone likes the Clash, right?”

Jerome drummed against the steering wheel. “Put this one on that mixtape for you, didn’t I?”

“It was a playlist,” Five said defensively when Ivy laughed. “Mixtapes don’t have sixty songs.”

“Mix CDs don’t even have sixty songs,” Harley said, yanking Five back to sit down beside her at the table. “ _Jimmy Jazz_? Nice.”

“It has _Straight to Hell_ on it, too,” Five told her. “I like that one. I knew it from a cover.”

“Moby and Heather Nova?” Ivy asked, drawing a startled look from Harley. “Hey, I know shit.”

“Yeah,” Five replied, impressed. “Avi used to give me their iPod in the Foxglove break room, so—”

“You miss those folks you used to work with,” Harley cut in, “way more than I woulda thought.”

Five shrugged. “You miss some of your old classmates, right, even if they were mean to you?”

“I don’t miss the ones who were dicks,” Harley said. “Anyway, most of ’em are nobodies now.”

“Doesn’t take much to be nobody in Gotham,” Jerome said. “Even if you used to be someone.”

“You still are,” Five insisted, realizing Jerome might wax bitter if they kept talking about this.

“Nobody on this trip’s a nobody, sheesh,” Ivy said. “It might be nice to go back to that, though.”

Harley put an arm around Five, mostly to keep him from dashing back up front to Jerome’s side.

“We’re bigger nobodies than you two,” she retorted. “How ’bout leavin’ us losers in peace?”

Five tilted his head toward Harley’s shoulder, relieved to be stuck with her for the moment instead of Ivy. He’d never had a real sibling. Bruce’s and Ivy’s attempts at bonding tended to involve researching Five’s condition, whereas Jerome and Harley put his heart first.

Harley set her hand on top of his head; it was a huge relief to duck down and rest against her.

“I dunno the full story of what went down at Indian Hill, but goddamn,” she said. “You okay?”

“I don’t feel well,” Five whispered so Jerome wouldn’t hear, trembling as Harley held him tight.


	7. Divining Rod

Harley stretched as she rose from the driver’s seat, eager to get some fresh air. Parking the RV in one of the partially shaded, paved parking docks hadn’t been tricky with Jerome’s help. She felt like she was getting the hang of handling a large vehicle.

“Can’t we park further into the woods?” Ivy asked, already standing outside with the boys, staring up at the sparse branches. “Somebody might set up camp the spot next to us and get up in my biz. I don’t want anybody reporting me for picking plants.”

“There aren’t spaces for that,” Five said, unfolding the map of Indian State Park he’d grabbed at lunchtime. “The terrain would be too rough.”

“There’d be no water and power hookups, either,” Jerome pointed out, already investigating the connection points. “We can off-grid it for a day or two, but water runs out. We’d have to drive back down here to fill the tanks anyhow.”

Harley couldn’t help laughing at Ivy’s crushed expression. “You wanted to rough it, huh?”

“There’s always the tent,” Five reminded them, re-folding the brochure with fussy precision.

Ivy’s face lit up. “Oh _yeah_! Jerome, that was a good call. Maybe Harl an’ me will—”

“Not every night we’re here, we won’t,” Harley sighed. “I don’t trust these jokers not to do somethin’ dumb.” She glanced at Jerome. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Jerome said blandly, hopping back onboard the RV. “Princess, wanna help?”

“With the hookups?” Five asked, dashing after him, pleased when Jerome caught him on the RV stairs and kissed him. “You’ll have to teach me.”

Harley sighed, rubbing her elbows, convinced she’d felt a mosquito bite already. “Young love.”

“I worry about them,” Ivy said as soon as Jerome and Five were out of earshot. “If I’m worryin’, then you _know_ Bruce and Jeremiah must be.”

“Bruce is losin’ his mind,” Harley agreed, startled at how quiet and clear the air was, “but J will give ’em enough rope to hang themselves.”

“What about you?” Ivy asked. Her hair gleamed, fiery in the sunlight as she hastily pulled it back.

Harley blinked, snapping herself out of distraction as she stepped closer. “Am I worried, you mean?”

“Yeah,” Ivy said, bending to give her a quick peck on the lips. “Jerome especially seems…”

“Like he’s in mourning already? No shit,” Harley sighed. “He keeps losin’ the people he loves, and I think he still can’t believe he got J back.”

Ivy’s features twisted in anguish. “I’m gonna fail everyone. Five, Jerome… _you_ …”

Harley brushed the tears from Ivy’s cheeks. “You don’t know that. Even if you do fail? I guarantee you wouldn’t be failing me. Listen, I can’t…” She sighed. “I can’t speak for the boys, especially not Jerome. I’m doin’ my best for them, but…somethin’ tells me they’re out of my league. As therapy patients, anyway. If Five…if he goes, if we lose him? We’re gonna lose Jerome, too. What’ll break my heart is havin’ to break it to J!”

“Wow, that’s shitty,” Ivy whispered, eyes wide. “I’m gonna shut up, ’cause you have it worse.”

Harley pulled Ivy off to one side as the boys clambered back off the RV, on their way to…well, to do whatever the hookups to power and water sources entailed. She patted Ivy’s cheek and winked at her, and then drew the handkerchief she kept in her pocket.

“Chin up,” Harley said, dabbing at Ivy’s nose, and then at her own. “We got into this together.”

“It’s a good thing Jeremiah is mostly Bruce’s problem now,” Ivy said, “because you’re right. He’s the one to worry about if this goes to hell.”

Harley waited until Jerome and Five vanished around the other side of the RV, and then hustled Ivy over to the picnic table beneath a nearby tree. She made Ivy sit down, and then flopped down in the grass at Ivy’s feet so she could rest her head in Ivy’s lap.

“J’s capable of worse shit than Jerome’s done. _Way_ worse. All it would take is somethin’ to trigger it. Losin’ either Bruce or Jerome would do it. I don’t think J’s had enough time to get attached to Five. But the issue is what losin’ Five will do to Jerome. The knock-on effects are no joke.”

Ivy ran her fingers through Harley’s messy pigtails, which were what tended to happen when the buns she pinned up on each side came loose.

“Hey, so…the thing we found out not too long ago. The thing you kinda asked me not to do in Walmart without askin’ me in so many words? I think…I know you don’t want me to get caught and locked up, but…I need to test it more. To see what else it can do.”

“I fuckin’ hate that you had to cut yourself on garden shears for it to come to light,” Harley muttered. “You only bled on that seedling, right?”

“Didn’t stay a seedling for long,” Ivy said, eyes distant. “I never even thought about what else that Indian Hill weirdo hittin’ me with his powers back then mighta done. I didn’t just age too fast, I got…” She threw up her hands. “Whatever the fuck you call that. Powers?”

“Why’d you mention it?” Harley asked, tilting her head back far enough to meet Ivy’s gaze upside-down. “D’you think maybe it’ll help you…I dunno, locate the right plants to save Five? Like some kinda divining rod or whatever?”

“Maybe,” Ivy said quietly, fixing Harley’s hair. “I don’t know. It’s the only hope we’ve got.”

“No, you have _mad_ plant skills at a baseline,” Harley insisted. “Sounds like you always have.”

“This is something different,” Ivy told her. “Dangerous. You have no idea how much willpower it takes not to _make_ myself bleed all over the greenhouse. Think of how much I could speed up growth, or…what I could do if Fox or somebody could isolate the thing in my blood—”

“The thing in your blood,” Harley murmured, lifting her head as the boys came back into sight.

“All set,” Five said, dusting his hands off on his skirt and leggings. “Everything here’s so rusty.”

“Good thing you like that,” Harley said, waving her hand suggestively at Jerome. “Hey, don’t get your dander up. Takes one to know one.”

“My hair’s nothing like rust,” Ivy said, thwapping Harley upside the head. “Jerome’s, though—”

They all turned and stared as a shiny Winnebago pulled into the dock beside their beloved Thor.

“Looks like we have neighbors,” Jerome said, sliding an arm around Five. “Think they’ll last?”

Harley got up from the ground, brushing off her black tights and denim shorts. She put herself between the boys and the intruding vehicle as the interlopers who drove it killed the engine.

The couple who emerged from it a few minutes later looked like they were in their sixties, with affable, fine-lined faces and matching sun visors. Strangely, neither one of them appeared to express alarm when their eyes swept over Jerome’s face.

The wife, who wore a fanny pack, waved cheerfully. “Hiya! My, you kids are far from home. We couldn’t help but notice the New Jersey plates.”

Harley glanced over her shoulder at Ivy, who was already trying not to break down laughing.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Five, before any of the rest of them could respond. “Gotham’s pretty far.”

Harley watched a spark of recognition cross the husband’s features. “Needed to get away?”

Jerome nodded, saluting him. “You betcha. No offense, but I’m not givin’ out autographs.”

The couple burst out laughing so quickly that Harley wondered if this was some kind of trap.

“You haven’t lost your touch,” said the wife, winking at Jerome. “We’re fans,” she said as an aside to Harley, in a conspiratorial whisper, “but I’ll make sure Chuck doesn’t impose!”

“Harley Quinn, pleased to meet ya,” Harley said, offering her hand. “Chuck’s the charming hubby, I’m guessin’? Who’re you?”

“Evelyn,” said the woman, now beaming in response to Ivy’s inquisitive stare. “Evie to you.”

“We almost rhyme!” Ivy gushed, offering her hand. “I’m Ivy Pepper. Where are you from?”

“Green Bay,” Chuck said, turning away from Jerome, who was murmuring something to a worried-looking Five, out of politeness. “We were truckers. Been retired a good while now. I remember the Gotham run. Nice to know nothing’s changed.”

“If you mean we’re still a buncha freaks an’ weirdos,” Harley said wryly, “that’s about right.”

“Jerome’s girl,” Evie whispered as Jerome waved curtly and led Five back to the RV. “Any relation to the Wayne heir? Striking resemblance.”

“Sometimes a girl, sometimes a boy, sometimes all of the above,” Ivy said. “Sometimes none.”

“Half-sibling, long story,” Harley cut in. “Polite, but moody like Bruce. That’s Five for ya.”

“Think I scared the poor kid half to death,” said Chuck. “Too many questions. Did Jerome meet Five in Arkham? Nice to know he found someone.”

“Oh my God,” Ivy said under her breath, arms folded, covering her mouth with one hand. She was staring at Evie and Chuck like they were some kind of natural curiosities she wanted to hit with tranquilizer darts, box up, and ship to Edward for analysis.

Harley cleared her throat. “Hah, _sure_ —sorta? You could say they…both did time.”

Evie looked up from polishing her glasses. “Awful place, Arkham. Overdue for reform.”

“Holy smokes,” Ivy blurted, incredulous with laughter, “you guys are _so_ weird!”

Chuck shrugged. “Just wait till you’re our age. Nothing will surprise you anymore.”

“Well, hey,” Harley said, spreading her arms. “As long as you ain’t undercover cops.”

“Yeah, ’cause if you report my plant harvesting, we’d have to kill you,” Ivy said.

Evie and Chuck just started to laugh again, which was rather admirably unnerving.

“It’s nothin’ to do with drugs,” Harley said. “Red here is a dab hand with plants.”

“You get on with whatever it is you do on vacation,” Evie replied. “Don’t mind us.”

“We won’t, but the boys mind a lot,” Ivy said, hardening her expression. “Five especially.”

Chuck raised his hands in a respectful, distancing gesture. “Sorry. We did come on strong.”

“It’s just a thrill to see Joker in the flesh,” Evie admitted. “Back from beyond, larger than life.”

“We’ve gotta unpack,” Ivy said, grabbing Harley’s wrist. “See ya around the park, I’m sure!”

“Goddamn, that was creepy,” Harley said once they were back inside the RV with the door shut.

Ivy didn’t stop until she reached the sofa, and then sat down. “Do you think they’re honest?”

“Dunno, but they’re fuckin’ nut jobs who’d fit right in back at home,” Harley sighed, taking a seat beside her. She peered down to the far end of the RV, where the bedroom partition was shut. “Maybe let’s not do the tent tonight. We oughta stay with the boys, just in case…ya know. Not that I think Walmart Dude called us in, but this is gettin’ hella weird.”

“You know they’re capable of defending themselves, right?” Ivy asked, eblowing Harley’s ribs.

“Yeah, but they’d make a goddamn mess while they’re at it,” Harley sighed. “We’d at least take care of ’em quick and quiet in comparison.”

“Right, because a shotgun’s _so_ quiet,” Ivy shot back. “Unless you got some other trick.”

“We got that perfume of yours,” Harley said, _booping_ Ivy’s nose. “That’s all we need.”

Ivy broke into a slow smile. “Oh! I kinda forget about that sometimes. We’d just tell ’em…”

“To go get lost in the cave or somethin’,” Harley finished for her. “Bottomless pit’s the limit!”

“Hear, hear!” Jerome shouted from behind the partition. “Princess says go big or go home!”

“Take a nap already!” Ivy shouted back. “Sheesh, it’s like babysittin’ the younger street rats.”

Harley opened the window, rummaging in her skirt pocket. “Did you and Cat get stuck doin’ that often?” she asked, withdrawing the pack of American Spirits and a lighter she’d sneakily bought at some gas station back in Iowa. “Don’t judge me, Red. I’m fuckin’ stressed.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Ivy said, watching her light up. “Cat and I tried smokin’ once. Didn’t like it, but whatever. Actually, Cat had to babysit my dumb ass. There was this one time I got so sick I coulda died, but she pulled me out of some cardboard boxes. We broke into this artsy loft and set up camp. Barbara didn’t even kick us out. It was kinda fabulous.”

Harley took a drag on her cigarette, blowing smoke out the window. “As in Barbara Kean?”

“Babs and Tabs pretend they’re hardasses,” Jerome cut in, “but they’re soft on waifs and strays!”

“Yeah, ’cause chokin’ you when you went lookin’ for Five was so nurturing of them!” Harley retorted.

“I waltzed into their club without warning!” Jerome replied. “I was inclined to cut some slack!”

“Everybody stop yelling!” Five shrieked, seemingly at the end of his tether. “ _I’m_ gonna use the tent if you keep this up!”

Harley smoked in silence while Jerome’s low, apologetic rush of words was met with an equally soft response from Five, and then silence. When Ivy reached for the cigarette, Harley didn’t try to stop her. It was worth the pinched, comical look on Ivy’s face when she handed it back.

The rest of the afternoon was blissfully uneventful, except for the part where Harley dragged Ivy into the shower after she finished her cigarette. They drew the blinds and fooled around while the boys were asleep. The only thing lovelier than Ivy’s damp hair spilling across their pillows was the breathy, intermittent gasps she muffled in the crook of Harley’s neck.

Harley couldn’t understand her luck, how she’d found someone so patient and nonjudgmental. Ivy didn’t care that Harley’s body didn’t always react the way Harley wanted it to. She’d even figured out a way of using the perfume—with Harley’s consent, always—to spice things up. The girl lived up to her last name, Pepper indeed. When Harley said so, Ivy laughed.

At dusk, emerging from the RV with intent to start a campfire, they found their new neighbors busy at one of the grills. When Evie insisted the four of them join her and Charles for dinner, Ivy accepted enthusiastically on behalf of the group—just to see what would happen, Harley was convinced. Five had conspicuously traded his skirt for one of his battered pairs of black jeans.

“Nobody’s gonna judge you, precious,” Jerome murmured in Five’s ear, catching Harley’s eye as she rose to help Charles with some more hot dogs and burgers at the grill. “To these folks, we might as well be America’s sweethearts.” 

“I still don’t trust them,” Five insisted stubbornly, as Harley drifted out of earshot. “I want to.”

“You and your Red are the outgoing ones, aren’t you?” Charles asked, handing Harley the tongs.

“What can I say,” Harley demurred, plucking finished hot dogs onto a plate. “We’re naturals.”

“The in-laws must be worried about those two,” Charles said, inclining his head subtly toward Jerome and Five at the picnic table. “Are they?”

“In-laws?” Harley asked, puzzled, and then realized what he meant. “Oh, you mean the Waynes.”

“Didn’t think Bruce had married Jerome’s brother yet,” Charles said. “No media reports.”

“Mr. J might not be a Wayne on paper just yet,” Harley laughed, “but he might as well be.”

“It’s true you worked for him as a proxy, then?” Charles asked, flipping several burgers.

“Sure did,” Harley said, setting the plate on the grill’s sideboard, folding her arms. “Why?”

“You’re a lady of many talents,” Charles replied. “I’m glad you chose to…live up to them.”

Harley rubbed her neck, realizing he’d seen her scar. “Findin’ the will was no cake walk.”

“I imagine my goddaughter’s struggle was similar to yours,” Charles went on. “Proud of her.”

“Here’s hopin’ her parents were supportive, ’cause mine sure weren’t,” Harley said. “Daddy left early. Ma decided she wanted no kid at all if she couldn’t have the one she insisted on callin’ her son. I feel bad for the twins. Nastier parents than mine. I don’t blame Jerome for offin’ both of ’em. I feel worse for Five, though. Talk about a fucked— _uh_ , rotten childhood.”

Before Charles could draw breath to respond, Harley’s cell phone rang. She fished it from the pocket of her skirt, waved apologetically at Charles, and walked a short ways off, under the shadow of the trees, to answer.

“Speak of the devil,” Harley drawled, trapping the phone against her shoulder. “Hiya, J.”

“Harley,” Jeremiah greeted. “I’m not calling for my own peace of mind. It’s for Bruce.”

 _Sure_ , Harley thought smugly, kicking some twigs. “Took you an’ the Junior Detective League longer than I thought it would to figure out we were gone,” she said. “Why waste your time? Tell Bruce to call Jerome himself.”

“He’s been trying since the day Selina fessed up to knowing you left town,” Jeremiah said. “Jerome hasn’t noticed the missed calls?”

“I doubt it’s that he’s missed ’em,” Harley said, deadpan. “More like he’s ignorin’ anything that’s from an East Coast area code.”

“How fucking _stubborn_ —” Jeremiah stopped short of a furious rant, breathing deeply. “Surely he knows we’re trying to help.”

“They already found help,” Harley pointed out, realizing that the next twig-snap wasn’t on account of her pacing. She turned, not at all shocked to see—well, she’d expected Jerome or Ivy, so seeing Five _was_ technically a surprise. “We got this.”

“Your skills and Ivy’s are formidable,” Jeremiah cautioned, “but you’re not Lee and Lucius.” 

“Ow, harsh much?” Harley scoffed. “It’s not like those eggheads have made any breakthroughs anyway. It’s only been a few days. Ivy has a plan.”

“Who is that?” Five asked, advancing a few more steps, his eyes narrowed. “Alfred? Bruce?”

“I know you’re driving when Jerome isn’t,” Jeremiah said, his patience waning. “Come back.”

“No can do, J,” Harley said, naming him for Five’s benefit. “Your bro and Five have a plan, too.”

“I shudder to think what it must entail,” Jeremiah said coldly, but Harley knew it was to cover the raw terror that must be rising in him.

“It’s not your business,” Harley replied firmly, holding Five off as he attempted to grab the phone, “and you’re not my boss anymore.”

Five knocked the phone out of Harley’s grasp, bending to retrieve it with unnerving speed.

“Tell Bruce to stop calling Jerome,” he seethed into the mouthpiece, and then handed it back.

“Well, there ya have it. TTYL,” Harley said, enjoying Jeremiah’s stunned silence, and hung up.


	8. Nature Ain't Shit

Early the next morning, Ivy crept out of the RV, leaving Harley and the boys behind to sleep.

Five would be disappointed that she was setting out on her first forage without him, but she had the feeling Jerome wouldn’t take kindly to her preventing them from spending what little time they might have left in each other’s company.

Less than a mile past the trail head, her basket already filled with _Sphaeralcea ambigua_ , she ran into Evie and Chuck. Each of them had a rustic walking stick, and they waylaid her without showing any interest in her harvest.

“Beautiful morning for a walk, isn’t it?” Chuck asked, beaming at her. “Walk with us a ways?”

Ivy shrugged, oddly charmed when Evie looked even more pleased than her husband. “Sure.”

“If there’s any especially interesting flora along the way,” Evie said, “tell us? We’re gardeners.”

“Same,” Ivy admitted, bending to clip a few _Callirhoe involucrate_ blooms. “Got a hunch I do somethin’ different with these than you would, though.”

“Desert globemallow’s useful,” Chuck said, pointing at the bright, waxy orange blooms of her initial haul. “Can’t you make medicine of the leaves?”

Ivy nodded. “Or eat it raw. S’good for respiratory stuff and the flu. You can apply a poultice to burns, snakebites, sores, and arthritis.”

Evie took one of the stalks when Ivy handed it to her, running her fingers over the _Callirhoe_ tangled with it. “This pink one—cowboy rose.”

“Poppy mallow is the common name I know,” Ivy admitted. “Painkiller, colds, muscle aches.”

Chuck stared at the rocky trail as sunlight filtered through the trees. “These prairie flowers must be different from what you’ve got back home.”

Ivy shrugged, strolling slightly ahead. “I cultivate a handful of species that might surprise you.”

“Rumor has it choice poisons are just one reason you don’t cross Cobblepot,” Evie said absently.

Resisting the urge to do a double-take, Ivy just regarded her coolly. “Rumor as in the papers?”

“You must know what they call you, Miss Pepper,” Chuck said. “That Valerie Vale writes like she’d as soon stay in your very best graces.”

“Vale is a fucking busybody,” Ivy muttered, bending to examine a ripe mayapple fruit. “A smart one, but still. She drives Pengy up the wall.”

“Never did understand what a bright thing like you was doing on retainer,” Evie said. “Shame.”

Ivy frowned at the waxy greenish fruit in her palm. She clipped it and tossed it in her basket.

“Happy where I am,” she said. “There’s not much you could offer me in exchange for a hit.”

Chuck clucked his tongue. “It’s plenty clear you and Jerome are the talent of that outfit.”

Standing up, Ivy pushed her basket into the crook of her elbow and drew the chain around her neck out for them to see. She swung the vial.

“Harley’s a sharpshooter and Five can snap necks. You know what Jerome can do. Keep this up, though? You’ll never make it out of the woods.”

“You’re awful protective of the others,” Evie said, raising both hands placatingly. “Point taken.”

“To be honest,” Ivy sighed, making sure a smear from the vial’s slightly loosened lid made it onto her fingertips as she tucked it back under her collar, “there’s not much of what I need out here.” She snapped her fingers under their noses, each in turn. “Keep walking. Get lost.”

Chuck and Evie obeyed, eyes glazed over. Ivy didn’t stop watching their progress down the trail until they vanished around the nearest bend.

Harley was busy making coffee when Ivy got back to the RV. She yawned behind her hand.

“Have fun shootin’ the shit with our senior amigos? I hope so, ’cause I’ve tried to get the lazy-asses outta bed like three times, and _nada_.”

“I know Five was really looking forward to staying a few days,” Ivy said wearily, accepting the first mug without protesting the fact that it didn’t hold tea, “but we’re gonna have to move on. And report to the ranger station on our way out that I happened to spot a batty-lookin’ couple of fogeys wanderin’ off the trail. Who knows where they’ll be by nightfall. Are there bears here?”

Grimacing as she took a slow swig of her own coffee, Harley sighed. “Did they get too nosy?”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna raise suspicions,” Ivy sighed, “hence the reporting. Cool with you?”

“Sure, why not,” Harley sighed. “Sounds like you didn’t do the worst number you coulda.”

“Look, they aren’t fast,” Ivy said. “As long as you’ve got the silencer, I can lead you to ’em.”

Jerome opened the divider and made his way toward them, giving an unconvincing yawn. He was in black boxers with rainbow smiley faces all over them, plus a boring white undershirt and his incongruously classy plaid robe hanging open

“If I don’t get to kill anybody, neither do you,” he warned. “Also, spoilin’ Five’s fun? Rude.”

“At least I don’t have to go yellin’ at you about clothes,” Harley said, shoving a mug at him.

“Good thing you weren’t watchin’ the morning they both came out to the shower naked,” Ivy said, enjoying Harley’s weary expression.

“Hey, that’s not the default for either of us,” Jerome said defensively. “Five was in bad shape.”

“I know, jeez,” Ivy said, taking a seat beside him on the sofa. “Lighten up. I won’t tell you to smile, because that’s in poor taste. I don’t want Five to wander out here and see ya like this.”

Jerome glared over the rim of his mug. “You think he hasn’t seen me worse, Miss Sunshine?”

“Oy, knock it off,” Harley griped, flipping the switch on the kettle. “I can hear him back there.”

Ivy had no idea how long it might have taken Five to actually wander out if Jerome hadn’t dropped his coffee and all but _screeched_. Before she could ask what the hell his problem was, Five rushed out, hair a mess, hastily tying his kimono.

“What did you see?” he asked Jerome, who had drawn his legs up onto the sofa. “Where’d it go?”

“Fucked if I know,” Jerome said, offering Five a smile that was too shaky to be anything but forced. “Burned it with the spill if we’re lucky.”

“Spider,” Harley volunteered, glancing up from the tea she was making for Five. “Texted ya about it, remember? I saw this shit when J had me babysittin’ these two at the bunker. Talk about _funny_.”

“Be quiet,” Five said, staring intently at the floor. After about thirty seconds, he snatched a napkin from the counter where Harley was working, dropped to a crouch, and slapped it down on top of something. “It’s not a brown recluse,” he told Jerome matter-of-factly, examining what was in the napkin before tossing it in the trash. “You’re safe.”

“Heh,” Jerome said, tugging Five into his lap, kissing his cheek. “Always so brave, princess.”

Five rolled his eyes, making a face when Jerome put his feet down in the coffee spill. “Sure.”

Ivy grabbed the rest of the stack of napkins from next to Harley and scattered some over the patch affected by the spill.

“That shit’s cute and all,” she said, “but we’ve gotta split. I’m not findin’ the right plants.”

Five tilted his head at her in that curious, innocent way he had when he didn’t understand.

“We could still stay a couple of days, right?” he asked. “Jerome and I wanted to go hiking.”

Harley sighed, tossed back her coffee, and slammed her mug down in adorable frustration.

“Yeah, well, Crazy Plant Lady here had to tell our frumpy neighbors to _take_ a hike, so we’ve gotta report their perfume-addled asses to the ranger station and get the fuck out. I offered to kill ’em, but _no_.”

Five just put his head down on Jerome’s shoulder, bitterly hiding his face, refusing to comment.

Jerome glared at Ivy and Harley in turn, petting Five’s hair. “Nature ain’t shit here compared to where we’re goin’, sweet pea.”

“That’s not what you said to the spider,” Ivy said, following Harley up front. “We’re leaving now?”

“Yeah, like you said,” Harley muttered, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Help Jerome unplug this fucker.”

“No!” Five shouted peevishly, just before the front door noisily opened. “I’m going to help him do it!”

“Sometimes he just…doesn’t act his age,” Ivy said once the boys were outside, chewing her lip.

“You probably noticed Jerome doesn’t, either,” Harley said. “Or J, for that matter. None of those three got to be kids.” She paused. “None of us did.”

“Are we gonna stop for breakfast, or do you expect me to cook while you drive?” Ivy asked.

“Nobody’s doin’ squat until we’ve talked to the rangers and split,” Harley replied. “Capisce?”

Ivy was relieved that nobody was at the ranger station near the exit. She scribbled a note and weighed it down with a rock. They left without leaving any sign they’d been there—and that wasn’t wishful thinking, as Ivy told the plants to take care of the infinitesimal.

They had been on the road scarcely three hours when Five got a nosebleed. It was longer and more dramatic than the ones Ivy had previously witnessed; he seemed weak and disoriented afterward. Looking more murderous than Ivy had seen him in a while, Jerome took Five to bed and didn’t even come out when she shouted to let them know breakfast was ready.

When they stopped outside of Fort Collins, Colorado around four o’clock in the afternoon, Ivy felt cranky about having to do the evening food run with Jerome. Harley was in a foul mood, though, and risking that wrath seemed like an even worse prospect to Jerome than it did to Ivy.

“Is Five still asleep?” Ivy asked awkwardly while they sat outside a mom-and-pop Indian place, waiting for their takeout order. “It’s…I’m sorry,” she faltered when Jerome’s expression clouded over. “I need to know how he’s doing.”

“Yeah. Been out since what, eight or nine hours ago?” Jerome asked. “Whenever it happened.”

Ivy twisted her hands in her lap, shifting on the creaky bench. “I’m not sure what to do if he’s losing that much blood. I don’t have—”

“Was any of the stuff you got back in Nebraska useful?” Jerome demanded. “None, huh?”

“Sure,” Ivy said sarcastically. “Effective analgesics. Five doesn’t feel pain, though, right?”

Jerome looked off to one side, lips twisting in disgust. “Rub it in, why don’t ya. Forget it.”

“I liked the old you better, even if he was unhinged and obnoxious,” Ivy told him sourly.

“What, you don’t even think I’m obnoxious anymore?” Jerome asked, sounding disappointed.

“You are, but not the same way,” Ivy said, stiffly patting his knee. “We got a rep to uphold.”

“We as in, like…I dunno, Gotham’s dubiously reformed juvenile delinquents?” Jerome asked.

“No, as in Gotham’s still-sorta-criminally-inclined redheads,” Ivy replied. “Work with me here.”

“I am, and it’s taking the last of my will to—” Jerome glanced up sharply as Harley approached.

“We shoulda gone with Wendy’s or something,” Harley said. “Five’s awake. Askin’ for ya.”

Jerome left without so much as thanking her, leaving more than enough space for Harley to sit.

“I’m not worried most about Five,” Ivy said, tapping her temple. “Jerome’s in worse shape.”

“I dunno what to do about this,” Harley said unhappily, folding her arms across her chest.

“We’re gonna have to call Bruce,” said Ivy, even more unhappily. “He’ll rip us a new one.”

Just then, the flustered young hostess came outside carrying four heavy-laden plastic bags.

“Takeout order, Pepper?” she asked, looking relieved to see Harley sitting there instead of Jerome. “Where’s your, uh, friend?”

“Jerome Valeska ain’t interested in terrorizin’ your scrawny ass,” Harley said, grabbing the bags.

Ivy hung back while Harley marched off, digging in her pocket for one of the twenties she kept around for situations like this. She handed it to the girl while she thumbed her pendant, which still had traces of perfume oil lingering from that morning, and then snapped under the girl’s nose.

“Get yourself somethin’ nice,” Ivy said, patting the dazed girl’s shoulder, and went back to the RV.


	9. Fragile Like a Bomb

The day they left Nebraska was the day everything went to shit. Not that Jerome would’ve claimed the trip leading up until then had been rosy, but their ill-incited departure brought plenty of grief. Ivy’s ire at having had to use her compulsion twice in one day was palpable.

Even Indian food for dinner, usually an excellent idea, went haywire. Somebody in the kitchen had mixed up the requested spice levels of Five’s mango curry and Jerome’s tikka masala. The only thing that the two had in common was chicken—so, hey, he could understand how the mishap occurred—but the girls’ raucous laughter at Jerome’s misery and Five’s crankiness just led to more sniping.

Five responded first by handing Jerome his sweet lassi to neutralize the overabundance of pepper, and then by closing their food containers and indicating Jerome should follow him back to the bedroom. Behind them, even through the closed partition, they could hear the girls snickering.

“Don’t eat so fast,” Jerome coughed, watching Five hoover his curry like it was the last meal he might ever eat. “Nobody’s timin’ us, sheesh.”

“No,” Five said around his next-to-last mouthful, “but your face is really, really pink. I need to keep an eye on you in case…” He hiccupped.

“Curry’s not what killed me, princess,” Jerome said, sheepishly handing the lassi back to him.

“It won’t be what kills you the second time,” Five said with a tilted smile. “Not on my watch.”

Jerome took Five’s empty food container, setting it aside along with what was left of his own.

“C’mere,” he said, tugging Five into his lap, stealing another sip of lassi. “You look better.”

“Better than what?” Five asked, peevishly snatching back the cup. “How I looked earlier?”

“Yeah,” Jerome said quietly, tucking Five’s hair behind his ears. “You were kinda pale.”

Five finished the lassi, noisily slurping the last of it, and then dropped the cup on the floor.

“I just realized,” he said, setting his hands on Jerome’s heated cheeks. “We forgot to count.”

“Count?” Jerome echoed, distracted by the way Five darted his tongue across his lower lip.

“Kisses,” Five reminded him, leaning in to press their lips together. “For sunscreen SPF.”

“Ah,” Jerome mumbled, eagerly leaning into it. “So now that’s…forty-seven more to go?”

“More like half that,” Five said, licking into Jerome’s mouth. “We’ve kissed lots since.”

“Do kisses we forgot to count _really_ count, though?” Jerome asked tauntingly.

“Yes,” Five said, letting his head fall against Jerome’s shoulder. “Call it twenty-five more.”

Jerome swallowed thickly, by now reacting to more than just the residual spice overload.

“You make it sound like that’s all we’ve got left in the world,” he said. “Like…well, ever.”

Five shrugged, pressing his open mouth against Jerome’s neck. “It might be. Twenty-four.”

“Precious, _don’t_ ,” Jerome hissed, with far more bitterness than he had intended.

Five lifted his head and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “Sorry, s’just…”

Nodding, Jerome kissed each of Five’s suddenly tear-streaked cheeks in turn. “I know.”

“I’m worse,” Five lamented. “Ivy didn’t find anything in Nebraska. We need to hurry.”

“We’ve got, what, maybe fifteen more hours of drivin’ to go?” Jerome soothed. “Soon.”

“I don’t want you to leave me back here,” said Five, “but Harley would have to do all of it.”

“You know Ivy can’t drive,” Jerome said wistfully, petting Five’s hair. “Gotta pull my weight.”

Five nodded miserably. As if coming to some kind of silent decision, he kissed Jerome and shrugged out of his _NOT FRAGILE LIKE A FLOWER FRAGILE LIKE A BOMB_ Frida Kahlo tee. He ran his palms over Jerome’s chest, questioning.

“Whatever you want,” Jerome said, starting to unbutton his own shirt, startled at Five’s haste.

“Harley’s gonna have no choice but to drive tonight’s shift, because we’re back here,” Five said.

“Uh-huh,” Jerome said, dropping his shirt and Five’s on the floor with the cup. “Tell me more.”

“I feel better than earlier, but…we both know it won’t last,” Five went on, unzipping his jeans.

“You sure know how to show a guy a good time,” Jerome relented, letting Five crawl out of his lap so that they could both get their bottom layers off. “We’re gonna take it slow, okay?”

Five was naked inside a few seconds. He curled up, lying on his side, watching Jerome undress.

“Why would I want us to go fast? The whole point is making the most of the time we have—”

“ _Shush_ ,” Jerome said, finally stretching out beside him. “That means no premeditation.”

Five just scooted closer, sliding an arm around Jerome’s waist. He studied Jerome’s face at close range, his face half-hidden in the pillow, and then nuzzled Jerome’s jaw. The heat of his skin was overwhelming, almost to the point of burning up.

“Shit,” Jerome said, but pulled Five tightly against himself anyway. “You’ve got a fever.”

Five shivered, as if Jerome’s skin was cool enough in contrast to give him the chills. “Oh.”

“That’s no good,” Jerome went on, closing his eyes as he threaded his fingers through Five’s hair. “Has that happened before?”

“I don’t know,” Five admitted, licking and biting at Jerome’s neck. “They always said my temp ran higher than normal.”

“Duh, knew that,” Jerome gasped, rolling Five onto his back. “Not this much higher, though.”

Five blinked up at him with a hazy fondness that was too adorable for words. “Wait, really?”

Jerome bit Five’s neck in retaliation, and then the shell of Five’s ear. “We need a thermometer.”

“We didn’t buy one at Walmart,” Five said breathily, laughing as Jerome sucked his earlobe.

“Then we’ll have to stop at another one,” Jerome replied, trying not to squirm restlessly against Five. “Anything else you wanna buy?”

“Rings,” Five said earnestly, clamping his thighs on either side of Jerome’s hips to still him.

Jerome dipped down so that their chests touched. “Wait. What?” he blurted in disbelief.

Five huffed impatiently, pinching Jerome’s side. “You’d rather die without getting engaged?”

“All Brucie’s money at our disposal,” said Jerome, giddy, “and you want rings from Walmart?”

“The next big city is Salt Lake,” Five shot back, offended. “I’m not going in a jeweler _there_.”

“At least lemme find us somethin’ classy, sweet pea,” Jerome cajoled, kissing Five’s flushed cheek.

“Five’s right,” Harley said from the other side of the partition, so suddenly they jumped. “Where else d’you get rings for a shotgun wedding?”

“Does that mean we can stop in Las Vegas?” Five asked, gazing wonderingly up at Jerome.

“No, jeez,” Jerome said, kissing Five’s forehead before he could get bent out of shape. “That’d take us, like…an entire day out of our way.”

“Not if you do one of those drive-through chapels,” Harley replied. “Anyhow, just came back to say we oughta hit the road.”

Jerome waited until she was gone, and then asked, “Are you proposin’ more than engagement?”

Five rolled his eyes, but it was clear from how he glared at the ceiling that he was fighting tears.

“I should’ve known it would freak you out,” he said, tensing beneath Jerome. “Forget I said—” 

“Yes,” Jerome cut in, shifting his hips until Five trembled and clung to him. “No take-backsies.”

“Fuck,” Five laughed, his tearful exhalation fading to a soft moan. “It’s—it’s a risk, and I—”

“You’re thinkin’ too hard, is what,” Jerome said, kissing from Five’s throat down to his chest.

Instantly, Five tangled his fingers in Jerome’s hair and forced his head lower. “Make me stop.”

Jerome stifled his sudden mirth against Five’s belly. “Want me to blow you? Eat you out?”

“Don’t care,” Five panted, abruptly yanking on Jerome’s hair. “Just—Jerome, don’t tease!”

As much as Jerome wanted to do both things at once, it had to be one or the other. He shivered happily, savoring Five’s groan at the sudden swipe of his tongue in the crease of Five’s thigh.

“That’s teasing!” Five screeched, subsiding into swift, stifled breaths as Jerome sucked him.

Jerome kept at it until he felt the slight, telling trace of salt on his tongue. He pulled off, pressed a kiss to the underside of Five’s cock, and dipped his tongue curiously between Five’s cheeks.

Five quivered, restrained by Jerome’s palms laid flat against his hipbones. “So’s _that_!”

Humming in agreement, Jerome shrugged. He worked his tongue inside Five, trying to remember exactly how Five had done this to him. They’d only tried it the once, and Jerome had been on the receiving end.

Trembling harder with each tentative stab of Jerome’s tongue, Five only lasted a few minutes.

“Too much of a tease, huh?” Jerome asked, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Pity.”

Five was still shaking, his eyes shut tight, red-faced and adorable. “Just…shut up,” he panted.

Jerome licked the mess off Five’s abdomen, kissing Five’s scars while he was at it. “Nope.”

“Jerome,” Five fussed, holding out his arms as he caught his breath. “What d’you, um, want?”

“Nothin’ much,” Jerome murmured, holding Five tightly. “I love ya, though. That’s what.”

Five’s eyes glittered. “You’re hard,” he said, rubbing the heel of his hand against Jerome’s cock.

Jerome ground down against Five’s palm. “I was hopin’ we might have, y’know, a moment.”

“Oh, we did,” Five said, grinning, finally curling his fingers around Jerome. “I love you, too.”

Exhaling shakily, Jerome let his full weight rest against Five. He tugged Five’s hand out from between them, kissing the back of it, closing his eyes when Five wound both arms around his shoulders.

“Pretty baby,” Jerome sighed against Five’s temple, resting his head there as he tensed and came.

“You’re quiet,” Five whispered, stroking Jerome’s hair while he recovered. “Do you want this?”

Jerome closed his stinging eyes, nodding so he wouldn’t start to cry. “More than I can say.”

“Good,” Five yawned, his hand slowing until it stilled against the back of Jerome’s head.

It didn’t take long for Five’s breathing to slow, which was a sure sign he’d fallen asleep. Jerome reluctantly peeled away from Five, hesitant to scrub at him too much. He tucked Five in, gathered his clothes off the floor, and went to the bathroom to wash.

Ivy was surprised when he came up front to evict her from the passenger seat ten minutes later.

“Thought you an’ Five were down for the count,” she said, surrendering the seat. “How is he?”

“Running a fever,” Jerome replied curtly. “If you’ve got somethin’ for that, he’d appreciate it.”

“Well, shit,” Ivy said, making her way to the kitchenette. “I’ll probably have to wake him.”

“He’s covered up!” Jerome called after her, and then turned to Harley. “Vegas. Really?”

Harley shrugged, laying on the horn when a passing truck refused to let her change lanes.

“Seventeen hours versus twenty-five hours,” she said. “Small price to pay for a last wish.”

Jerome ran both hands over his face, letting his fingertips catch on his scars. “I guess so.”

“Listen to me,” Harley said, laying on the horn again, this time out of sheer frustration. “I know it’s yours, too. I hate it, but I get it.”

Leaning forward, Jerome rested his forearms against the dashboard. “Did you call my brother?”

“Not yet,” Harley said, “but I’m thinkin’ about it. Especially since now you’re gettin’ hitched.”

“Five’s too sick,” Jerome said, feeling bile finally rise in his throat. “You know it, I know it—”

“Ivy might come through,” Harley insisted. “You never know. The situation looks dire, sure, and I’m willin’ to let you go, but…” She swallowed what sounded an awful lot like a sob. “Let me call ’em, Jerome. _Please_.”

Jerome sat back in his seat, arms folded tightly across his chest. He swallowed in apprehension.

“Where did Ivy ask you to take us?” he asked. “Pacific Northwest, _but_ —where specifically?”

Harley shot him a tearful sidelong glance. “Oregon,” she wavered. “Rogue River Trail.”

“That’s not a rainforest like in Washington,” Jerome said. “It’s not even on the coast.”

“No, but the internet says it’s gorgeous,” Harley shot back. “You guys could go hiking like you always wanted. You could vanish, even.”

“Pull over,” Jerome muttered, feeling too weary to continue the conversation. “I’ll reroute us.”

“Asshole,” Harley sniffled, but she sounded relieved to be relinquishing her shift. “Thanks.”

Jerome drove for six hours straight before stopping, feeling lucky he’d found a truck stop with vacant spaces to park. Before he could even turn the engine off, Harley came back up front and told him to move his ass, she was taking back over.

“Where’s Ivy?” he asked, switching into the passenger seat. “Did she bring down Five’s fever?”

“She’s conked out,” Harley replied. “Keeps wakin’ up every hour to check his temp. I made her shower with me a few hours ago.” She clicked her tongue and winked. “Without a thermometer, there’s no way to gauge numbers, but she can tell he’s down a couple degrees after whatever she gave him. You’re welcome.”

Jerome stared at the truck stop lights, feeling like didn’t deserve this kindness in the slightest.

“I’m gonna get us some Red Bull,” he said, rising and stretching. “Think we can tag-team it?”

“Hah, six more hours to Vegas?” Harley challenged, following him off the RV. “You’re on.”

Nobody seemed to know who Jerome was. Either that, or they didn’t care, which was just how it was in the middle of the night at most rest stops. His insistence on paying for the junk food made Harley bristle, but she punched his arm on the way out and called him a gentleman.

“You didn’t think that when we first met,” Jerome sighed, resigned when she beat him to the driver’s seat. “What changed?”

“The first time we met, I was comin’ to see you in Arkham on J’s behalf,” Harley said. “There was nowhere to go but up.”

“Kinda hoped you’d say it was that night you took me and Five from the station to the bunker,” Jerome replied. “Was it?”

Harley revved the engine, her eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. “Nah. I thought thirst was makin’ you reckless.”

“Maybe,” Jerome said, “but I sure didn’t know it at the time. I felt protective of him, though.”

“Funny,” Harley snickered. “You, protective of someone more dangerous than you’ll ever be.”

“Rub it in,” said Jerome, realizing there was something in his own inflection that reminded him of Jeremiah. “Did you call?”

Harley navigated them onto the highway before responding. “Hey, do you _want_ me to?”

Leaning on his forearms against the dashboard, Jerome chewed his lip. “Wish I could tell ya.”

“This ain’t rocket science,” Harley said impatiently. “You do, or you don’t. Get off the fence.”

“I want the test results,” Jerome confessed. “If they’ve even got ’em from Doc and Fox yet.”

Messing with the radio, Harley briefly inclined her head in his direction as if she understood.

“They’d be tryin’ to call more often if they knew anything,” Jerome went on. “Bet they don’t.”

“Science is funny like that, even hella advanced lab stuff like they got at Wayne Industries.”

“Times like this, I find it hard to believe you’re on a doctoral track. Are you ditching class?”

“Told my profs I needed two weeks off for a family emergency,” Harley cackled. “Given my funding, who was gonna say no?”

“Forget Birdman,” Jerome said, conducting the classical station she’d picked. “You’re the supervillain Gotham needs.”

“Yeah,” Harley sighed dreamily, “but you know Brucie an’ J are gonna grab the title, right?”

“See, that’s what’s funny,” said Jerome, after a beat. “They started down that road when they decided to be my keeper.”

“They’re lookin’ after Five just as much,” Harley said. “Brucie knows daddy’s money bankrolled Strange at Pinewood Farms.”

“Indian Hill’s way a snappier name,” Jerome said grudgingly, “but good riddance to ol’ Hugo.”

Harley took her right hand off the wheel, reaching to pat his arm. “Thank Penguin for that.”

“Captain Question-Mark finished him off, though,” Jerome said. “Excuse me, _Riddler_.”

“You talk like half the city doesn’t still go around callin’ you Joker,” Harley teased. “Even those poor schmucks in Nebraska did.”

“Heh, I wouldn’t mind so much if…” Jerome trailed off dourly. “Dunno if that’s me anymore.”

“That all it took? Findin’ some semblance of family?” Harley asked. “Folks who love ya back?”

“Don’t go all shrink on me,” Jerome said, rummaging in the shopping bag. “You’re off duty.”

“It’s a valid consideration,” Harley continued philosophically. “Was it your circumstances that made ya snap, or was it unavoidable?”

“Did circumstance make my bro snap?” Jerome countered. “I’ve heard you claim otherwise.”

“J’s a piece of work in a lot of ways you ain’t,” Harley replied, “but you’re both still a mess.”

“What about Five?” Jerome asked, genuinely intrigued. “Did circumstance make him snap?”

“Unclear,” Harley said, taking the exit when Jerome pointed at the sign. “He’s like Ivy.”

“And what’s Ivy?” Jerome prodded. “Somethin’ as dangerous as J? Is that why you fell so hard?”

“Look, puddin’,” Harley said, “I got a thing for redheads. Mind if I call you that? Ives hates it.”


	10. Heaven or Las Vegas

_The wind bit through Five’s borrowed coat with bitter force, so he shoved his hands even deeper into his pockets. Even the way Bruce’s clothes hung ever so slightly too loose on his frame served to reinforce the grief that he could never, ever hope to belong here._

_Five was aware of the sleek sedan that had been tailing him since about a block after he’d jumped from that rooftop and fled from the alley. He doubted that Bruce and Alfred had come after him, so the remaining options were undercover GCPD or Indian Hill staff._

_From the sound of things, one of the ominous vehicle’s windows had just been rolled down._

_“Bruce Wayne?” said a voice that was familiar in ways that Five didn’t want to remember._

_Five turned his head the bare minimum required to respond. “No,” he said in brash disdain._

_“But you could be,” said the blond woman in the back seat, leaning forward so he could finally see her piercing hazel eyes, diamond solitaire earrings, and glittering stole. “In fact, you could be so much more.”_

_“Who are you?” Five asked, narrowing his eyes, finding to his shock that he couldn’t look away._

_“You might think of us as your parents,” said the woman, too slowly, sounding almost wistful._

_The footsteps approaching from Five’s opposite side took him off guard. Before he understood what was happening, there was a hand drawing back his hood and the cold, unwelcome sensation of a needle sinking into his neck._

_Five stared at the masked figure in black, his limbs turning leaden, too paralyzed for action._

__Why are you doing this? _he wanted to ask._ Who sent you? Was it Hugo Strange? __

_“We’ve been looking for you for a long time,” the woman went on, with a distinct air of pride._

_Five watched her nod to the figure holding him up, at which point the figure yanked open the back door and tipped him onto the seat beside her. The figure made sure he was properly situated, closed the door, and then went around the vehicle to resume its role as chauffeur._

_“You’ve…been looking for me?” Five asked thickly, finding he could still speak, but just barely._

_“Oh, my darling,” said the woman, reaching to brush his cheek with cool fingers. “When the doctor reminded me you were still out there, alone somewhere, and what was in store if I could find you—”_

_“The doctor,” Five said, lurching to one side as the sedan sped forward. “Doctor Strange?”_

_The woman nodded, bundling him back into a sitting position. “He’s an old friend of mine.”_

_“Who are you?” Five asked again, disliking her arm around his shoulder. “Why me?”_

_“You may call me Kathryn,” replied the woman, “or even Mother, like you used to.”_

_“Like I used to?” Five echoed, doing his best to glare. “Sorry, but I don’t know…”_

_“You are far more than the sum of your parts, some of which…yes, are coded in your borrowed Wayne DNA, quite clearly not from me,” Kathryn sighed with regret. “You must have so many questions.”_

_Five closed his eyes, realizing he’d begun to feel dizzy. “Then you…really are my parents?”_

_“In bearing you, I served a higher purpose,” Kathryn told him. “As will you, Five. Very soon.”_

Five woke with a start, scarcely able to hear over the hammering of his heart. Someone was lying beside him, but not touching him. Their coppery hair was a mess against the rumpled pillows.

Sifting through his kaleidoscopic thoughts, Five abruptly remembered. “Where’s Jerome?”

“Thank fuckin’ God,” Ivy gasped, her eyes flying open. “Up front, I think. Sleepin’ on the sofa. He an’ Harls drove all night just to get us…” She got up, stumbling to the nearest window, peering out the blinds. “Uh, here? Some Walmart parking lot.”

Sitting up produced a wave of dizziness so intense that Five had to close his eyes. “In Vegas?”

“Must be,” Ivy said, skipping back to the bed to sit beside him. “Man, I’m glad you’re awake.”

Five curled forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He was wearing Jerome’s flannel robe.

“I had a fever, didn’t I,” he said slowly, needing to say the words to make the memory true. “You gave me something, but I don’t…” He rubbed his eyes. “It gave me weird dreams. Not as weird as Dorothy’s, but…pretty close.”

“Psht, _yeah_ ,” Ivy laughed, rubbing his back. “The cocktail I had to give ya will do that!”

“Cocktail,” Five murmured, turning his head to hazily squint at her. “You mean like…alcohol?”

“No, I mean like herbs,” Ivy said, yawning. “This tisane from some dried stuff I brought along.”

Five stared down at his hands, twisting them together in his lap. “Oh. You haven’t cured me.”

Ivy reached out to brush his cheek, about to say something until her fingers touched his skin.

“Jesus,” she whispered, withdrawing her hand as if she’d been stung. “Jerome! Where the hell—”

The face that peered through the crack in the partition belonged to Harley, who looked beat.

“He’s in the store, pickin’ up somethin’,” she yawned, waving her phone. “Lemme text him.”

Ivy flashed her a look that made Five’s disorientation turn to unease. “I thought it worked.”

Harley yanked the partition the rest of the way open, staring uneasily at Five. “You thought?”

Five was about to snap at them when the RV’s front door opened and slammed, followed by the sound of Jerome dashing up behind Harley. He pushed past her, breathless with palpable alarm.

“ _Shhh_ , princess,” Jerome panted, dropping down in front of Five, pressing a small hinged box into his hand. “This is just a placeholder, got it?”

Five opened the box without looking, sticking his fingers inside. The ring felt smooth and plain.

Jerome removed the white metal band and slid it onto Five’s left ring finger. “Perfect fit.”

“I wish we could get married today,” Five said, falling forward as blood splashed their hands.

_Kathryn poured oolong from the cast iron tetsubin into Five’s favorite porcelain teacup with the same precision she used for every other action. Her restraint was something Five had taken pains to learn during the months he’d spent with the Court of Owls._

_“Tonight was close,” Kathryn said, pushing the tea toward him. “We could have lost Gotham for good.” She poured some for herself. “Soon, we will act, and you will be called upon.” Looking him over, she added, “They’ve done a wonderful job erasing the scars. Are you prepared?”_

__That’s not true _, Five thought, hyper-aware of the chemical burnt itch that ran from the back of his neck down the length of his spine._ All Strange has done is flatten and fade them. _He wanted to accept the tea, but knew he shouldn’t sit until he’d responded._

_“Yes,” Five said, meeting her eyes, keeping his hands fisted loosely at his sides, “but I still don’t understand how I can help save Gotham.”_

_“Never fear,” said Frank Gordon, entering the room unannounced. “You’re only part of the plan.”_

_“Are you sure about this?” Kathryn asked, her focus shifting from Five to their taciturn guest. “You know what must happen if he refuses.”_

_“I know,” said Frank, with a hard, bitter edge that gave Five pause. “No one refuses the Court.”_

_Kathryn tilted her head at Five as Frank left the room, lifting her chin, offering a challenge._

_“Audacious words, especially coming from a man whose loyalty I trust less by the hour.”_

_Five gave a taut smile, moving to sit only once he was certain that she had begun to return it._

_“I won’t fail you,” he vowed, enunciating with care. “What if James Gordon does refuse?”_

_“Well,” Kathryn said, plucking two sugar cubes with the tongs, “let’s just say Uncle Frank will be one_ very _unhappy camper.” She dropped the first cube into Five’s cup, and the second into her own. “I know you won’t, my darling.”_

_Five stirred his tea, using the action to buy himself a few more moments’ silent rumination._

_“I still don’t know what I’m meant to do,” he admitted. “The only thing I know is that I’ll be leaving soon. You’ve been…kind to me.”_

_Kathryn took a measured, portentous sip of oolong, reaching slowly to clasp Five’s free hand._

_“You’ve been a joy, my darling,” she said with grim dignity. “I’ll be only a phone-call away.”_

_Taking a gulp that might betray him at Wayne Manor if not reined in, Five coughed and lowered his cup. For a moment, he mistook the splash of heat beneath his nostrils for something else, struggling to bring a nearby napkin up in time._

_“I’ll only call if this—” he blinked at the tea-stained napkin in relief “—if_ it _happens.”_

Five coughed again, startled to realize someone else had pressed the teacup to his lips. He sat up, urged by the other party’s strong hand cradling the back of his neck. There was familiar comfort in the touch; the tingling down his spine was gone.

“My scars,” Five sputtered, struggling to keep his eyes wide open. “Can you still see them?”

“C’mon, precious,” pleaded the speaker, their voice rough. “Ivy says you’ve gotta keep this down.”

“It’s happening,” Five mumbled, taking a thick swallow of bitter liquid. “We have to call.”

“Jerome, for fuck’s sake,” said someone outside Five’s field of vision. “Even Five’s talkin’ sense, and he’s _delirious_. We really gotta.”

“What is it, sweet pea?”Jerome asked softly, ignoring the other speaker as he lowered the cup from Five’s lips. “What’s happening?”

“The nosebleeds,” Five rasped, holding Jerome’s handsome, worried face in his sight until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. It hurt to let in the light. “You…you have scars, too.”

“Sure do,” Jerome replied, with a terrible, heartrending laugh. “Remember how I got ’em?”

Five wanted to laugh with him, but he coughed instead. “That guy you killed on television.”

“Yup,” Jerome said eagerly, brushing Five’s hair off his face. “That asshole, Dwight—wait. Wait wait _wait_. You saw that?”

“Mmm,” Five murmured, nuzzling into Jerome’s touch. “They let me watch the evening news.”

“I never…” Jerome cleared his throat, leaning close so Five felt his breath. “I never knew that.”

Five broke into a smile, realizing he didn’t have to force it this time. “I should have told you.”

Jerome choked harshly. “Guess we were kinda busy makin’ a mess of my bro’s old place, huh.”

“Underground?” Five asked, frowning, sure there was more to it than that. “Like Indian Hill?”

“Kinda, but— _no_ ,” Jerome insisted sadly, kissing Five’s cheeks, once each. “Nothin’ like that.”

“They haven’t told me where to go,” Five said, suddenly terrified. “I don’t know what to do.”

Jerome fussed with Five’s hair some more, his breath against Five’s face hitched and frantic.

“You’re havin’ some kinda flashbacks. Pretty, pretty baby, you’ve—you’ve gotta stay with me!”

“This is madness,” said the other speaker. “I’m gonna chuck your butt back in Arkham myself.”

“There’ll be nothing worth taking back,” Jerome said viciously, closing Five’s hands in his own.

“Okay, kids, that’s it!” seethed a third voice, and there was the unmistakable sound of fingers tapping on a phone screen. “I’m callin’ them _for_ ya!”

“Ugh,” said the second speaker, the one angry at Jerome. “We didn’t get ’em to church on time. Didn’t even make it to the coast. J’s gonna kill me.”

“Five,” Jerome said, quietly pleading, “this has gotta be your decision. Together or not at all.”

“Not like this,” Five whispered, clinging to Jerome’s hands for dear life. “Let her. We have to.”

Jerome inhaled like he meant to start laughing again, but the sound he made was heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said through gritted teeth, smoothing Five’s hair. “Without you, nothin’—”

“Hey, yeah, Bruce?” said the third speaker, loud and sharp. “Seen your AmEx balance lately?”

Five squeezed Jerome’s fingers, swiftly losing consciousness. “You matter. I’m right here.”

_The elderly physician prodding between Five’s ribs and listening at random with the stethoscope was more inscrutable than Strange had ever been. Instead of sharing his findings, he conducted the examination in silence, punctuating his progress with glances in Kathryn’s direction._

_“Thank you for letting me come in,” Five said, unable to bear the fraught silence any longer. “The nosebleeds are getting worse.”_

_“You did the right thing, coming here,” Kathryn replied, but her attempt at reassurance was cold comfort. “What did you tell Alfred?”_

_Five was silent while the physician prodded up the sides of his neck, making him aware that something about his lymph nodes had changed. He watched Kathryn’s expression as the physician made some gesture only she could see._

_“Nothing,” Five answered at length. “I said I was tired, then snuck out of my room.” He steeled himself. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”_

_Beneath her stoicism, Kathryn was remorseful, even pained. It was an unsettling thing to realize._

_“Yes,” she said ruefully. “I'm sorry. The process that brought you into this world was flawed.”_

_Five had learned this from her, too—never to show weakness. “Will I die before Bruce returns?”_

_“No,” said Kathryn, masking her disquiet. “Bruce Wayne will be back in Gotham well before then. I know we've asked a lot of you.”_

_Succumbing to tears would have been a relief, but Five persisted in upholding their charade as long as the physician was still there, packing up. He considered his words carefully, choosing equal parts truth and falsehood._

_“After Indian Hill,” Five said, “I didn't know what to do or where to go. You gave me a purpose. That's more than most people could say.”_

_Kathryn lifted her chin a fraction, the firelight glinting in her eyes. “I'm glad you see it that way.”_

_At his next stark realization, Five couldn’t help turning his thoughts to Alfred and Selina in turn._

_“When Bruce returns, people are going to die, aren't they?” he asked slowly. “A lot of people.”_

_Kathryn’s response was almost a sneer. The jealousy underlying her proud tone was palpable._

_“You haven't gotten attached to anyone, have you? Alfred, perhaps? You've spoken fondly of him.”_

_“No,” Five insisted, nearly losing his cool. If there’d been any hope of him forging connections, it was now lost. “I just want to know.”_

_“The number is immaterial,” Kathryn said. “What matters is that Gotham must fall. And because of your sacrifice, it will. Can we count on you?”_

_“Yes,” Five replied, watching the physician leave. It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that the tone of Kathryn’s responses had been on account of his presence. “Now that we’re alone,” he said, willing to accept the consequences, “may I speak freely?”_

_“Thousands, my darling,” Kathryn said in resignation. “That’s how many people. Satisfied?”_

_Five closed his eyes in shame. “Alfred and an old friend of Bruce’s. They’re all I have left.”_

_Kathryn drew in her breath, turning reproachful. “Surely you’ve also had me?”_

The room was hotter than it should have been, even with a fire in the hearth. Five wanted to open his eyes, but tears had crusted them shut. Nearby, he could hear voices raised in vicious conflict.

“You’re on layover _where_?” said the voice Five knew was Harley’s. “You have a fuckin’ private jet! Layovers don’t happen to people like you!” She made an exasperated noise, her footsteps drawing nearer. “Sorry, didn’t catch that. Your brother an’ Ivy are fightin’ like—”

“Ivy’s operating under the delusion that we can make the rest of the drive _just_ in time for her to save the day,” Jerome interrupted loudly. “I mean, here she is, slicin’ up more of the useless Nebraska haul as we speak. Harley, tell ’em—it hasn’t even brought down the fever!”

“I’d be able to _think_ straight, maybe even think outside the goddamn _box_ , if you’d let me perfume this lunatic into submission!” Ivy shouted, the sounds of her chopping more pronounced by the second. “Seriously, Harl! Ask Jeremiah if he’d be okay with that!”

Five heaved for breath. He opened his eyes, able to perceive that it was dark both in the room where he was and beyond the shuttered windows. Aside from the screaming match on the other side of the wall, everything seemed quiet and still.

“There’s a—wait, a storm system, you said? Why the fuck didn’t I know?” Harley demanded. “Can’t you override the pilot’s decision? When I say you need to get your asses to Vegas to-fucking- _night_ , I fuckin’ mean—”

“You didn’t _know_ ,” Jerome raged, which outburst seemed directly related to Ivy’s sudden gasp, “because the radio’s been off. Nobody’s thought to switch on the television, me included. We never stopped bein’—pardon my un-PC French—a buncha loonies and morons. This whole trip is proof.”

“Ow! Fuck! _Guys_!” Ivy yelled, and an unearthly silence fell. “If somebody could get the first-aid kit, I’d appreciate—”

“Oh my God,” Harley said. “Hang on, just—I’ll call ya back.” She dropped something on the floor. “Ives, are you thinkin’…”

“Last I checked,” Jerome muttered, sounding somewhat contrite, “none of us were doin’ that.”

“I…wasn’t, no,” Ivy wavered, her footsteps drawing closer, “but…I am now. I just…what if it…”

“First-aid kit, comin’ right up,” Jerome announced, in a manic attempt to change the subject.

Five tried to make sense of what was happening. Someone was on the way, possibly to help, but perilous weather had waylaid them. Jerome was desperately angry at Ivy for having unrealistic expectations of what she could do with plants, and _then_ …

“Baby, listen,” Harley said desperately, her fingers splitting the wall so light spilled through onto Five’s face, “you’ve gotta try.”

“Wait,” Jerome said, dashing back from wherever he’d gone to look for the kit. “Try, uh…try what?”

Five met Harley’s hopeful eyes, backlit as she was by brightness. “Whatever’s left. I have all of you.”

_For the third time since Fish Mooney had liberated him, Five set off alone into Gotham twilight._

_Whatever was happening to cause such panic, whatever the Court had done to incite utter chaos, Five wanted no part of it. He hunched into his stolen coat and kept to the shadows, determined not to look on those ghastly faces beneath the streetlights._

_If this was another night like the night Kathryn had given him his so-called purpose, the night that infamous, supposedly resurrected cult leader had declared the city reborn? Five wanted no part of that, either._

_Who the fuck was Jerome Valeska, and what did he know about anything? Who the fuck was Kathryn Monroe, for that matter?_

_Five was in the Narrows before he knew it, where...somehow, the screaming around him had died down. Doorways opened onto alleys, splashing improbable warmth and light. Music and laughter beat from within, hypnotic._

_Outside the next door Five passed, a strikingly dressed woman with dark skin was enjoying a cigarette, blowing smoke at the sky. She pointed toward the ominous clouds rolling in, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow at Five._

_“Some say whoever released this virus waited till the full moon on purpose. Might be bullshit, though. What do you think?”_

_Five paused next to the figure, staring at their elegant mask. “I think maybe…we should make our own purpose. Are you hiring?”_

_The woman studied him appraisingly. “I’m Madame Lucy, emphasis on the madame. Do you follow? Depends what you’re offering.”_

_Five recalled something just then. The only club in town that required masks was called the Foxglove. It had recently acquired a permanent location, and its offerings were…how had Kathryn put it? Hedonistic and expensive._

_“I can fight,” he said, showing off the scars on his sides, and then the one down his back. “I can’t be hurt. If necessary, I can kill.”_

_Lucy made a thoughtful sound. “You’re a pretty thing. Grow out that hair, and who knows what kind of niche you’d find here.”_

_“My hair used to be long,” Five replied wistfully. “I never should’ve cut it for someone else.”_

_“C’mon in, sweetheart,” Lucy said. “If nothing else, they’ll tip you well for serving drinks.”_

_“Do you need a bodyguard?” Five asked, following her through the open, inviting door._

Five gradually became aware of a change in his surroundings. The room beyond his closed eyelids felt airy somehow. The bedclothes felt fresher.

The person beside him this time didn’t snore like an exhausted, overworked Ivy. He reached out blindly, running his fingers over familiar scars.

“Jerome?” Five whispered, opening his eyes, stroking from Jerome’s cheek up to his temple.

Instantly, Jerome caught Five’s hand against the side of his face. He turned his face into it, kissing Five’s damp palm over and over again.

“If I’m dreamin’,” he mumbled, opening his red-rimmed, weary eyes, “I don’t wanna wake up.”

“I was about to ask you if we were dead,” Five admitted, embarrassed. “What is this place?”

Jerome managed a bleary grin, patting the pile of plush pillows they were lying in. “Bellagio.”

“Like…you mean the hotel?” Five asked dazedly, rolling onto his back, staring at the ornate ceiling. “We’re…wait, where’s the RV?”

“Brucie let the girls abscond with it,” Jerome confided. “Said they deserved to go wherever they wanted after carting us around in it for a week.”

Five shook his head, baffled. “I…agree? We asked too much of…” He pressed his free hand to his forehead. “Did Ivy cure me?”

“Yeah, but, uh, major plot twist,” Jerome said, tugging Five into his arms. “Not with plants.”

Resting his head against Jerome’s shoulder, Five sighed contently. “Was it just common sense?”

“I wouldn’t call bleedin’ into your mucus membranes common sense, princess,” Jerome said, “but…it got the job done.”

Five tried to process that statement several times. “She… _wait_. Her blood did something?”

“Saved your life, once the lookin’ like a vampire stage was over,” Jerome said. “Freaky stuff.”

Five buried his face in Jerome’s neck, inhaling sharply. He smelled like fancy soap, but like himself, too, which made it less weird.

“Did I sleep a long time?” he asked. “When did Bruce and your brother…are they still here?”

Jerome made a grumpy noise, but he was as busy nuzzling Five’s hair as Five was nuzzling him.

“From when the fever hit until now, this is the first you’ve been lucid in…jeez,” Jerome said, pausing to kiss Five’s neck. “ _Days_ , precious.”

“I’m sorry,” Five said, scratching at the base of Jerome’s scalp. “Also, was I…dreaming a lot?”

Jerome basked in the touch, zoning out for a bit. “Flashbacks, maybe. You were delirious.”

Five nodded somberly, redoubling his efforts until Jerome melted. “They’re odd memories.”

“You told me somethin’ I never knew,” Jerome murmured, rubbing Five’s back. “About the night the lights went out.”

Five chewed his lip. He could remember more of what had happened than he liked to admit.

“If you mean the night you came back to life, yeah. I did see footage of you on television.”

“You like a guy in uniform?” Jerome teased, licking Five’s earlobe until it downright tickled.

“Not fair,” Five protested, making no effort to shove him off. “You’d look good in anything.”

“I used to,” Jerome said. “Took my youth and beauty for granted. I’m payin’ for it now.”

Five pushed Jerome flat on his back, leaning over him so that his hair curtained their faces. He couldn’t help remembering the night, back when they were hiding in Jeremiah’s bunker, he’d first crept in to share Jerome’s bed.

“Shut up,” Five whispered, pressing a kiss against the corner of Jerome’s mouth. “You still are.”

“I’ll never be prettier than my baby,” Jerome insisted, hugging him tightly. “That’s just fact.”

Five rested his forehead against Jerome’s, taking a shaky breath. “There’s a ring on my finger.”

“It was twenty bucks,” Jerome lamented, caressing along Five’s jaw. “We’ve gotta fix that.”

“There’s Cartier and Tiffany’s and stuff here, right?” Five asked, grinning. “Take your pick.”


End file.
